The Moon is White
by UnknownRegion
Summary: Madara slipped away, welcoming the darkness with a small yet blissful smile playing on his lips. Maybe now he could have that drink with Hashirama... He woke up to his long-dead clan's medics fretting over him. [Madara-centric, Time-Travel fic. MadaTobi]
1. Chapter 1

**Tags:** Time-travel, AU, Canon Divergence, Madara-centric, Descriptions of Violence, Child Soldiers, Mentions of Child Neglect, Warring States Period, **MadaTobi** , Brotherly Fluff, Slash, Mentions of Dictatorship/Tyranny, Lots of Death.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto, obviously.

* * *

Madara gazed dully into the lifeless eyes of his reflection, his face completely devoid of any expression.

The only outward sign that could cue someone of his emotional distress was the way his fingers' brutal grip tightened dangerously on the sink's edge, the ominous cracking audibly growing in volume. He forcefully maneuvered his stiff joints into releasing their grip in favor of forming the tiger hand seal.

"Release."

His iris, the morbid color of blood with three black commas, distractedly traced his reflection's soft, cherubic cheeks and lack of wrinkles on his skin. It was the face of an innocent five-year-old with eyes far too old, too worn, too _jaded_. His pasty complexion didn't help, making him look sickly, ill, and on the verge of death.

"Release."

They soon morphed and swirled into the familiar and unique pattern of his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan, his sclera being the color of fresh snow more disturbing than the actual fact that a _child_ of five winters has awakened the evolved form of his clan's famed dojutsu.

Madara could feel his feeble chakra reserves plummet to dangerous levels, this body too young to actually activate the Sharingan, much less the Mangekyou. However, he has always been a stubborn man - but always in the wrong and fallacious sense.

"Release."

 _We're both going to die. Right now, we can drink together. As war buddies._

 _War buddies, huh? Aa... I guess... that's fine... by..._

"RELEASE!"

A pudgy fist full of frustration ( _denial_ ) and anger ( _sorrow_ ) went flying, breaking the mirror and tearing his skin in the process. A hiccough slipped passed his lips as involuntary tears rolled down his face. The pain originated more from his sternum than his fist, and Madara could not help but grasp his chest, cloth bunching up as he held them in a white-knuckle grip.

"R- _Release_... re... lea-"

He dropped to his knees as his chakra flickered incongruously until only a small flame remained, just enough to survive, yet not anywhere near enough to do anything else. His body had forcefully cut off his routes of supply as an act of self-preservation, too deeply engraved in his soul to voluntarily control the fight.

His airway spasmed in his uncontrollable rage at being denied a peaceful demise, and despite the air still trapped inside his lungs, he continued to inhale; as if he has lost all abilities to properly exhale. His forehead planted itself onto the ground with undignified stiffness as he continued to gasp for air, beads of cold sweat rolling down his nape and saliva dribbling down his chin.

Clawing uselessly at his chest, Madara fell sideways, his eyes jerking desperately all over the place in search for some kind of respite. He gave up a few seconds after, feeling that it was pointless. The dead should remain as such - and the world, he thought bitterly, would be much safer without him.

Mind made up, his body went limp and his jaws locked tightly in place. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable, apathetic to how his lungs burned with the need to circulate oxygenated air into his system. Madara slipped away, welcoming the darkness with a small yet blissful smile playing on his lips.

 _Maybe now he could have that drink with Hashirama..._

He woke up to his long-dead clan's medics fretting over him.

* * *

 **A/N:** **MadaTobi has entirely taken over my Garden of Plots. The plot-bunnies are all obsessed with that ship! I can't stop!** **＼(´◓Д◔`)／ Just hope I didn't make their characters too OOC.**

I couldn't concentrate on my other fics with my plot-bunnies breeding MadaTobi non-stop. I had to let it go... LET IT GOOOO~ CAN'T HOLD IT BACK ANYMOOOAAARRR~ *。 ﾟ* ヾ( ゝз・)ノ

Please tell me your thoughts (●o'∪`o)ノ

P.S. This was supposed to be a **one-shot** , but it got too long so I broke it into chapters (－‸ლ)...


	2. Chapter 2

Time travel. Dimensional travel. Alternate universes.

Those words kept repeating like a broken tape recorder in his head, theories upon theories forming within the speed of light, yet easily discarded not a second later. Denial and Madara often went hand in hand, their perpetual bond developed from an early age until he was all but married to that foul mistress.

He wished that it was Hashirama who had been granted this second chance and not him. His war buddy, his best friend, his _comrade_ , deserved it more than Madara, who was and still am a broken and delusional man who failed spectacularly throughout his entire life.

With so many useless and pointless thoughts circling in his head, Madara cut himself off by hugging Izuna, a toddler no older than three winters, tighter to his chest, rocking and humming the child to sleep.

Madara knew he was a failure of an older brother, but this time, despite the lack of will to live ( _his body was constantly tired, his soul far too old to accommodate_ ), he would do his best to protect his younger brother(s). If he needed to remove Tajima early in order to take his rightful place as clan head, just to shield his brothers from entering the battlefield too early, he would do so in a heartbeat.

With intimate knowledge of the future in his hands, he knew how exactly to bring an end to the feud with the Senju, to bring forth an era of peace. This time, however, it would not be at the cost of Izuna's life or eyes. Madara swore that he would see _all_ of his little brothers grow old - or as old as Madara could live with his borderline suicidal mentality. He would be the first of his family to perish, never them. Not again.

But before his demise, he would rid the world of _that_ abnormality. Never again will Dokuzetsu, that parasitic _bastard_ , tempt and manipulate another human to do its bidding. At this point in time, that literal backstabber would be easier to seal away as it did not have Hashirama's cells to disappear swiftly via Mayfly.

Carefully tucking the sleeping toddler until his brother was warm and comfortable underneath the blankets, he turned his head slightly to stare out the window. He knew it was all in his head, but his eyes refused to see the moon as any other color than blood red. Idly, Madara wondered if he was ill in the head. Or if there was something wrong with his optic nerves.

 _What if everything was but an illusion?_

His eyes darted to the sleeping Izuna, compulsively burning into his brain the sight of those soft features and pure innocence exuding from his baby brother. With hesitant fingers - bloodied hands that only brought forth unimaginable terror and misery to others - he stroked Izuna's cheeks and eyes, before leaning to kiss his brother's forehead, his lips lingering as he breathes in Izuna's nostalgic and poignant scent.

If this was an illusion, he wouldn't mind being trapped inside for all eternity. Ultimately, reality consisted only of pain and suffering; a futility to someone as old as him.


	3. Chapter 3

Madara accepted the mission scroll Tajima gave him, skimming over the contents until he nodded his understanding. Tajima may be a shite excuse for a father, but he was a splendid shinobi with a discerning eye, knowing exactly what sort of missions Madara could excel with his physical age in consideration.

Unlike his first childhood, Madara was by far too skilled to be kept out of missions and battles despite only being physically five-years-old. Furthermore, with how sombre and ruthless he was, taking lives left to right without an ounce of hesitation - his 'first' kill had been swift and unsympathetic - he knew his clansmen whispered about him being a _disturbing_ child.

It stung, but he has always been good at compartmentalization. If he could not inspire love, he would cause fear.

He coped by ignoring every judgemental whispers until it all became background noises, their words unintelligible to his ears. Even now, he doubted that his parents noticed his selective mutism and withdrawn behavior; his father's only concern was to build him into a perfect war general-slash-leader in their battles against the other clans whilst his mother diligently continued to reproduce _replacements_ if Madara were to ever be KIA.

Frankly, he had forgotten how people felt about gender in this time period. Especially for those who were born into a clan that prides in bloodline limits. There were no women in their army, for fear of others capturing them and using them to breed.

To the people born and bred in this era laden by countless clan wars, women were little more than child-birthing machines _unless_ they were insanely strong. Children were little more than cannon fodder or a purpose to strengthen their numbers. Clanless ninjas roaming the place with no other than reason than to kill for food on their table.

Madara _loathed_ the Warring States Period. It was nothing but aimless pandemonium, and as a man who had once fought against the entire shinobi world, he only did so with a _purpose_ in mind; for _peace_ , as misguided as it was.

Madara tucked the mission scroll into his drawstring pouch and waited silently until the man dismissed him, looking directly into his father's dark, narrowed eyes and having no fear of the man's Sharingan prowess. Genjutsu was an ability gained from one's superior will, unbending mind, and precise chakra control. His physical body played no factor as he could easily counter any man-made illusions thrown his way. The only issue he has was with his stamina and small reserves.

Although he was trusted to complete missions that only children twice his physical age were given, proving to Tajima that he was a _prodigy_ , the man looked as if he was contemplating something. Tajima ended up saying nothing after five minutes ticked by.

As soon as he was sent out of the man's study, he grabbed his oversized (to a child) mission bag, kissed Izuna on the forehead, and left the compound immediately.

After gaining a fair distance, he set his bag down and retrieved a senbon and a pigmented ink pot. Having sterilized his senbon with a small fire jutsu, Madara, with meticulous care, inked a seal - white in color - on his right tricep. It took him many months to smuggle the materials to handmake his own ink, but it was worth it.

In this period, only the Uzumaki were masters in fuuinjutsu - and even then, tattooed seals were never thought of before Tobirama came about creating the ANBU tattoo. Jinchuuriki seals were a different branch altogether, and Mito was the one who invented it and became the first ever Jinchuuriki (technically, since nobody knew Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo was the Juubi's Jinchuuriki).

Hence, if he were to unluckily enough to be caught, no one would suspect a child from the Uchiha clan to know anything about seals, much less use it in such a risky way.

Seals tattooed on the skin, if inked incorrectly or made by someone without a mastery in the art - as the people _decades_ _later_ had come to learn after trying to imitate Tobirama's ANBU tattoo design blindly without understanding its concept - could result in a painful death as their chakra would rebel; similar to how white blood cells fight an infection.

(Madara had been so _bored_ , his elderly life spent in a dark cave, siphoning chakra from the Gedo Statue, with no company other than the White Zetsu clones. He had ordered them to sneakily bring him fuuinjutsu scrolls from the Uzumaki over the decades he was alive so that he would be able to understand the sealing arts better. As for why he mastered them; he was a perfectionist, always will be. When Uzushiogakure fell, he had Zetsu salvage what they could, before moving onto other hobbies when he had read all that he could read.)

After he was done, making sure that the items stored inside could only be released once specific conditions were met, he sealed his mission bag, leaving only his makeshift shuriken holster strapped around his left thigh and an adult-sized sheathed katana slung across his back.

All in all, he looked like a child who stole their father's weapon and ran away from home. Not that Madara cared. If others underestimated him, it was their own funeral.

Patting down his navy blue mantle sans Uchiwa fan on the back, he continued on his journey and entered Senju territory. His mission wasn't in any way related to the Senju. However, he would be able to complete it quicker if he cut through their territory to reach his destination.

Madara loathes having Izuna out of his sight for prolong periods of time. And with Ryouta due to be born soon, Madara desires to not miss his second younger brother's birth.

With the help of his chakra sensing abilities - although his range was in no way comparable to Tobirama's - he artfully avoided the Senju patrols for the whole day and camped high in the trees, hiding inside hollowed trunks during the night to avoid detection.

It took Madara a total of two weeks to reach the small fishing hamlet belonging to the Hagoromo clan, what with his pitiful stamina and short limbs.

His mission was to blend in and investigate if the Hagoromo clan were 'worthy' enough to be allied with. Madara already knew that their clans had once been allies against the Senju back in his first life, but if possible, he would rather they not ally themselves with such scum.

He recalled - thanks to his perfect memory - that that clan made a sport of hunting children from opposition clans ( _"My little brother was killed. Madara, right? Have you any younger siblings...?"_ ). To nip the bud before they could grow. It was distasteful to Madara, who had once upon a time dreamed of building a sanctuary for his younger brothers, for children to grow naturally rather than be forced to mature and die prematurely.

And yes, he knew he was being hypocritical.

He had manipulated many children in his old age - and Obito was his biggest mistake as of yet. Madara knew that if he ever lived long enough to meet Obito once more, he would train the boy properly this time. Not as a stooge, but as a direct disciple. He owed the other Uchiha for all he has done to the young lad. How unforgiving he had been to tear all that young Obito loved and made him grow into such a twisted man.

 _(_. _.. Obito, that endearing brat, had made the loneliness he accumulated throughout the decades dissipate, gradually, ever so slightly, but he had been too stubborn in his quest for peace to cherish those moments. He had been such an old fool, too obtuse to realize that he had already adopted Obito into his family and yet, still used the younger Uchiha like a disposable tool. He regrets. Oh, how he regrets and feels such shame..._ )

Madara couldn't help but stare at his pudgy hands, currently free of blood but heavy with stolen lives and burden. Despite this body's young age, his body count was plenty, enough to put even some adults to shame. He truly was someone who brings nothing but pain and misery onto others.

He physically shook himself out of his self-hatred and changed his clothing to blend in better with the homeless orphans and street rats.

The mission lasted a total of three months if he counted his travel time.

Whilst his father stoically read Madara's mission report back in the clan head's office, he sat outside his birthing mother's bedchamber with Izuna tucked under his chin, the two brothers eager to meet the latest addition to their family.

What he didn't write in the report was that in the process of observing the Hagoromo clan, Madara had _accidentally_ pushed and prodded a few holes in their meager defenses which then allowed their enemies to spit on them whilst they were down. Oops. Well, they have nobody to blame but themselves. Thus, proving that they were not worthy to ally themselves with the Uchiha.

Despite having no urge to retry his Eye of the Moon plan, Madara has always been a master puppeteer, stringing those along without their knowledge and making others dance to his tune - he worked best in the shadows than the light, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"Aniki!"

At Izuna's childish call, Madara looked up from bottle-feeding Ryouta, his eyes instantaneously zooming to the running toddler. He shifted his hold on the infant for better security and bodily turned from Izuna just as the latter crashed into his side.

Thankfully, he was well prepared and had glued his feet to the ground with chakra, knowing how energetic Izuna's usual greetings were.

"Careful," he whispered, voice cracking slightly from how seldom he uses his voicebox nowadays.

"Sorry, aniki, Ryouta-chan!" Izuna smiled sheepishly, the four missing front teeth and tangled hair making him twice as adorable.

Madara shook his head slightly with a small smile, showing his little brother that all was good. Without conscious thought, he balanced the bottle and baby with one arm whilst his free hand started to groom Izuna's hair, plucking out leaves and twigs whilst detangling the strands with his fingers.

He hummed slightly in question when Izuna continued to fidget in place, his eyes looking at Madara with blatant adoration. He returned the look with his own besotted one.

In this life, Madara felt more like Izuna and Ryouta's parent rather than eldest brother due to the difference in age, and with how their biological parents acted, parental affection was something Madara has never experienced. Still, he tries his hardest for Izuna and Ryouta, not wanting them to feel neglected.

"Can aniki teach me how throw shur'ken now?" His little brother peered from his lashes, lower lips jutting out in an adorable pout. Madara chuckled endearingly at the butchered pronunciation and a rather obvious attempt at manipulation.

Regardless, he nodded his consent and guided Izuna to the wooden targets at their backyard, but not before correcting his word and sentence structure. Although a commendable effort for a three, going four-year-old, their father was not a patient man and would punish them if they did something wrong. Even if that something was as an inane as grammar mistakes.

As he went about correcting Izuna's form, he didn't neglect the babe in his arm. Gently burping Ryouta after the infant was done with his milk, Madara set aside the bottle and rocked his baby brother whilst paying close attention to Izuna, not wanting the toddler to injure himself whilst training.

It was strange, Madara mused, to be training someone so young.

The first time, Izuna had been trained by the clan elders alongside the other kids in their clan. Madara had only started to spar with Izuna after the latter had reached seven, at least, due to how far they were in strength. He had to first learn how to soften his blows to avoid giving any unintentional injuries to his brother.

Now, during his second childhood, it was Madara who took the initiative to train his little brother. Others might think he was heartless for pushing someone so young to become a shinobi, but Madara knew that this was the best course of action to protect his younger siblings. The stronger they were, the fewer people that could kill them.

It was also better for him to be the one who trained them. Tajima and the clan elders were merciless, always dishing out corporal punishment and only giving the barest amount of praises (or none at all). Although effective on a whole with competitiveness as a measure of strength, Madara didn't want that for his brothers. He would rather they not be hurt unnecessarily, be it physically or emotionally. He wanted them to enjoy as much of their childhood as possible whilst also training to become child soldiers.

Besides, he had once turned Obito, a dead-last fool, into a powerhouse that could fight on par with an S-Rank shinobi, a master puppeteer who pulled far too many strings to count, and someone who could control a Bijuu all within a limited span of two years.

Hashirama's cells might have played an important part in speeding the process, but if it came down to it, Madara was confident that any student he trained would become a legend in their own right.

"Aniki! Did yous see that?! I hits bullseye ten time in' row!" Izuna squealed with laughter, arms in the air as he celebrated his victory of nailing all ten shurikens on the wooden target.

Ryouta jolted awake from his light doze due to the loud exclamation, causing Izuna to physically cover his jaw with his tiny hands, although his gleeful giggles slipped through his fingers once in a while. Madara only rolled his eyes fondly, automatically bouncing the infant in an attempt to comfort him.

"Yes. I saw. Well done, Izuna."

Madara lifted Ryouta higher just in time to avoid the little one from being squashed by Izuna. The toddler having wrapped two skinny arms around Madara's middle and rested his chin on Madara's abdomen, a goofy and wide grin playing on his lips.

"Un! Thank you, aniki. Fo' teachin' me and be patient with me!"

"Always, otouto."


	5. Chapter 5

Blood splattered across his face as Madara plunged his blade into the kneeling shinobi's neck, causing the arterial blood to gush out and paint him red as he jerked his weapon free. His fully matured Sharingan spun in place as he took in the battleground, his eyes purposefully skimming past the bodies of his fallen clansmen.

They had been returning from border patrol when they were suddenly ambushed by the Kurama clan. Madara had managed to escape their AOE genjutsu trap almost immediately, but a few slow ones had been outright killed in their moment of delay.

The Kurama clan, after all, were masters in genjutsu even without the Sharingan to aid them. Truly a fearsome clan of illusionists.

Now, after a full hour of intense battles, apart from Madara, only one more of his kin remained alive. The Kurama clan didn't pull any punches, having brought two dozens against them seven.

Sensing a disturbance in the air behind him, he spun on his heels, sword raised to block the blade that had almost skewered him like a plump dango. The shinobi snarled, expression filled with an intense _hunger_ for his flesh as he glared at Madara, teeth bared.

Madara impassively scanned the man's form for any holes, his lethargic body moving slower than expected when he moved to dodge and redirect the attacks he was receiving. With the aid of his Sharingan, he avoided a few backstabs, jutsu, and shurikens that had been thrown his way - but it wasn't enough. He was bleeding from the many cuts and stabs littering his little body.

As soon as his eyes captured a blind spot, however, he unhesitatingly dived in. Madara slotted his katana into the man's ribs and kicked the shinobi's midriff to gain distance.

Whilst his opponent was distracted by the pain, stumbling backwards as he tightened his hand over Madara's katana's hilt to prevent further blood loss, Madara's fingers moved rapidly.

"Katon: Great Fireball Technique."

The flames ate the man up - along with the corpses near him - burning him alive as he howled in pure agony, the smell of burnt flesh and grilled meat invading his nostrils. If Madara had not been so used to it, he would've vomited. Some of the other shinobi _did._ It allowed for the last of his clansman to take advantage of their momentary weakness.

Knowing that the enemy's goal was to study the Sharingan to strengthen their genjutsu formidability, Madara made sure to burn his clansmen's corpse or throw shuriken at their eyes whenever he has a chance to.

Madara grunted when his side was kicked, his small body hurled into the air as he felt some of his ribs creak under the force. As he was airborne, he saw the last of his clansman fall, causing the enemies to roar in victory - thinking they have already won.

As soon as he landed in a roll, he pushed himself to his feet and positioned himself into a defensive stance. He had fought against _thousands_ once upon a time, but now, in the body of a bloody _six-year-old_ , he felt _weak_ and _powerless_. His chest was heaving heavily for air whilst the wounds scattered around his body throbbed, some of his organs bruised and his bones fractured from the many fits of abuse he took.

He gritted his teeth, glaring poisonously at the ten remaining Kurama men left. They all wisely avoided making eye contact with him ( _fuck!_ ), but he could tell from their body language and expression that they were confident. Madara did, after all, make a sorry sight right now.

"You guys take care of the brat. I'll take this one back first," One of them cockily said as he pointed at the fresh corpse of Madara's kin.

The only one not badly burnt or mutilated by him. The other Kurama clansmen agreed as they slowly inched closer to Madara from all sides whilst that one bodily picked the dead Uchiha up, carrying the corpse much like one did a sack of potatoes.

Taking a deep breath in, Madara decided that if he were to be taken out, he would only go with an explosion. And if he survived this, he refuses to hold back his trump cards from now on. Some secrets weren't worth the lives of his kin.

"What's wrong, baby Uchiha? Hoping for someone to save you?" A man jeered.

"Why don't you start crying for your papa? That'll be a sight - and maybe _, just maybe_ , we'll spare you," Another mocked.

"Hmm... Didn't Akira say she needed someone to donate their sperm to her daughter? I bet having a half-Uchiha in our clan would bring us many benefits," One other pondered, chatting amongst themselves as they continued to close in on him.

He truly was being underestimated.

"The concept of hope is nothing more than giving up. A word that holds no true meaning," he responded to their taunting, a thin smile playing on his lips as his commas swirled into their evolved form, "I would rather not use this before my chakra pathways mature, but beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Before any of them could react to his words, whatever was left of his chakra flooded out in waves, constructing a humongous blue skeletal figure that wrapped him safely inside its ribs. Knowing that he was on the verge of collapse, he had only summoned the bare bones, and even then, it took a great toll on him, his insides felt as if a few somethings had just _burst_ open.

The chakra construction roared, and if Madara weren't so exhausted, he would have sadistically laughed at how pale the Kurama clansmen had turned, their knees shaking from something never before seen in this time period. Even the one carrying his kin had frozen, pupils dilated to massive proportions.

Not waiting for any of them to recover from their terror, his Susanoo slashed at them with its undulating blades, cutting half their numbers with a single move. That, however, caused them all to return to their senses.

All of them separated and began throwing ninjutsu after ninjutsu, genjutsu after genjutsu, their desperate attempts at bringing him down. And it was working. The ribs of his Susanoo had cracked under pressure due to how brittle his restricted and immature chakra had made them. He was also having a hard time grasping reality from illusions, making it harder for him to dispell them.

The silver lining was that they were all chuunin with C-rank jutsus at best.

With a haggard exhale, Madara wiped his sweaty forehead as he focused on them, tears of blood rolling down his cheeks as his young eyes strained from using such immense power. Back then, he didn't require to activate his Mangekyou Sharingan to use Susanoo, but now, he was forced to.

If only they had waited for him to reach his teen years, at the very least, before ambushing him - he would've crushed them within _minutes,_ if not _seconds_.

It took longer than he intended, but as soon as the last of his enemies were killed and his clansmen's head smashed like watermelons, Madara collapsed to his knees, Susanoo breaking down as it disappeared.

Every cell in his body felt as if it was tearing itself apart; a horrible sensation that was so painful it made him queasy. His body trembled from the agony, the biting cold, and the blood loss.

Falling face first into the dirt, he closed his eyes and did his best to meditate. He needed to push past all the discomfort and concentrate on refilling his chakra pools. That was the only way for him to use iryō jutsu to heal himself. His only chance of survival.

 _If_ he was lucky, nobody would pass by this area. He needed to retrieve all their armor due to the Uchiha's rock-bottom financial status. Tajima was truly a horrible accountant.

Just before he entered a meditative trance, he mentally apologized to Izuna for missing his little brother's birthday.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I apologize for suddenly cutting off at chapter 4. I went to take a power nap ╮(╯∀╰)╭... I'll update one chapter every few days or so until I get to the end.


	6. Chapter 6

Madara allowed his fingers to be used as chew toys by his teething baby twin brothers as he seated himself at the engawa on a floor cushion, under the shade with a pot of green tea next to him and a lap full of two squirming infants whilst he verbally instructed his two other younger brothers on their kata.

"Bend your knees more, Izuna. Use the momentum of your core to flow through your movements, Ryouta. That was sloppy at best. Again from the very beginning."

Izuna and Ryouta both whined out complaints but complied, anyway. The two boys were covered in a light sheen of sweat as the afternoon sun tanned their skins a healthy color. Madara himself was far too pale with dark circles and stress lines under his eyes, most of his time spent taking care of his siblings whilst he trained his body indoors - never too far away from the twins.

It has been seven years since his arrival in the past. All of his little brothers were well and alive, Madara having foiled the latest two assassination attempts at Takumi and Yakumi's life - the exact same ones that had claimed them the first time around. His mother, on the other hand, had not been so lucky. It made Madara too paranoid to leave them alone, and even on missions, he would leave a shadow clone behind despite the massive drain on his reserves.

Currently, Madara was twelve, Izuna ten, Ryouta seven, and the twins, Takumi and Yakumi, still newborns at only four months of age. His father, Tajima, only visited them to assign missions or to check on their progress. The nannies were all but frightened away by Madara's impressive glares.

If he were to be sent by the clan head's orders on missions, patrols, or the field with his brothers-in-arms, either Izuna or Ryouta would take care of the twins on his behalf (his clone did a magnificent job of hiding in the shadows). He didn't trust strangers to care for his two vulnerable baby brothers - disregarding the fact that almost all Uchiha were connected one way or another.

When Madara finally called for a break, Izuna and Ryouta all but fell gracelessly to the grassy ground, groaning and moaning about Madara being an 'oni-sensei'. The wordplay always made him smirk discreetly into his high collar whilst pretending to not hear a thing.

Fixing a cloth sling on his front, he adjusted the two newborns and stood up soundlessly. Madara made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a few healthy snacks and drinks, and made his way back to the engawa.

"Wash your hands first," Madara drawled as he slapped Ryouta's itchy fingers away from the tray. The latter stuck his tongue out cheekily whilst running into the house, eager for treats as always. Izuna followed at a more sedated pace, before taking off in a sprint not a second later. The ten-year-old had always tried to be more mature when in front of Madara, but failed spectacularly as always, much to Madara's open amusement.

He could only fondly shake his head at the two brats.

As he settled down, he arranged the cubed fruits and vegetables to be divided into equal portions so that the two would not bicker about him playing favorites 'again'. It greatly amuses and confuses him how competitive they were for his... favor( _?_ ).

Izuna, as he slowly came to learn, was different compared to his first life. More outgoing. More childish. More lively - _happier_. And has a friendly rivalry going with Ryouta, always trying to one-up the other in training or day-to-day activities.

Frankly, it made his heart swell in ( _parental_? _Brotherly_?) pride. Not that he loved his brothers any less back then, it was... _Hm_ , even in his own head, he was not quite sure how to put it into appropriate words without mucking up the emotion he felt whenever he sees them so vibrant. Perhaps it could be elation? Contentment? Jubilation?

Whatever it was _,_ he just knows that it was a positive emotion.

And Madara, with how protective he was over his brothers' emotional and mental state, had made sure that Tajima's bad influence would not spread to them. He knew that hatred bred for more hatred. And the Uchiha-Senju feud had long lost its purpose. The only reason why they continued this meaningless vendetta was due to their bitter elders passing down their animosity to the younger generation, and when they grow old, they would continue to follow the _tradition_.

Although not naive like Hashirama with hi- _their_ dream, Madara understood the concept of spilling less blood. To refrain from killing unnecessarily. However, they live in an era when wars were common. There would be casualties. And sacrifices needed to be made if one wanted to protect.

For Madara, it was his life. He would sacrifice whatever he needed to sacrifice to protect his brothers _and_ clan. Even if his future methods would have him bear the brunt of his clan's aversion and hostility.

When the squabbling pair came back, they huddled against his sides as they snatched each other's snack, trying to one-up the other with their rivalry.

Madara sat quietly on his zabuton, enjoying the serene atmosphere as he allowed Yakumi to tug roughly on his long mane and Takumi to continue gumming on his index finger, which was at a cooling temperature thanks to a handy baby-related jutsu.

"Anija?" Madara tilted his head slightly towards Ryouta to show that he was listening, "Are you getting enough sleep?"

Blinking at the unexpected question, Madara tried to remember _when_ exactly he had last slept. The blank he came up with was slightly concerning, but he waved the question away with a murmured, "You need not concern yourself over my sleeping habits. I am well."

"He wasn't asking if you're fine or not, aniki," Izuna rolled his eyes so hard Madara was afraid it would be stuck that way, "Ryouta's asking if you're getting enough sleep. Your eyebags have eyebags and those eyebags have even _bigger_ eyebags."

... Cheeky brat. Madara self-consciously poked at his eye bags.

Izuna was not wrong on that part. Madara did, in fact, notice that the stress lines underneath his eyes were more conspicuous this time around. A reason why he decided to grow out his hair early; his fringe proving to be excellent coverage to shadow his exhausted and sickly features. To hide that he was slowly wilting away, how tired his body constantly felt.

"I sleep enough to function," he ended up saying as he smoothened his fringe down to better cover his eyes.

His answer, apparently, wasn't what Izuna wanted to hear. The latter threw his hands in the air, beyond exasperated.

"Are Yakumi and Takumi keeping you up at night? We can always alternate," Ryouta said tentatively.

"Their closeness brings forth my peace of mind," He intoned.

" _Kami_ , aniki! Can't you just say yes or no? You're speaking like an old man who only knows how to answer without actually answering! It's making my head spin!" Izuna whined.

Madara gave Izuna an unimpressed look, which only made the boy cross his arms with a pout. Cute. In turn, it made Madara drop a surprise kiss to Izuna's forehead, causing the boy to petulantly scowl at him.

"Looking after two babies on your own is tough. They're always making noise at night," Ryouta tried again, which made Madara sigh under his breath.

"As I said before, Ryouta, I am not troubled with my own sleeping habits. Rest assured, otouto, I am not sacrificing sleep for our two youngest." He merely avoided sleeping whenever possible due to paranoia and never-ending night terrors. If that made him spend more time watching his baby twin brothers sleep, then all was good.

"Argh! I can't take it anymore! Aniki you idiot! What Ryouta means to say is that we can look after Taku and Yaku while you nap. You look like you really need one right now. Like, _reeeeeeeally_ need one," Izuna tugged on Madara's sleeve with a put-off look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed.

 _Ah_.

Now he understood. They were _worried_. About him. _For_ him.

Madara bent his head and used his birdnest of a hair to cover the small smile playing on his lips and the slight flush he could feel forming on his cheeks. Having his family care for him felt... _heavenly_. He knew that Ryouta and Izuna both loved him, but to actively see how much they care was... pleasantly shocking to say the least.

"Ohh?" he raised his head with a smile, but this time, it was more sadistic than sweet, "You're not getting out of training, you insufferable brats. Break's over. Run laps around the compound _until_ I tell you to stop. Your stamina is _contemptuous_."

The jaws of his two adorable little brothers dropped in shock before their features turned to despair.

Despite how touched he felt, he wasn't good with expressing his emotions. Hence, he decided to show his affections by training them till the brink of collapse. His own version of love. This would keep them safer in the long run, better than any verbal declaration of adoration.

As they dragged their feet, whining and complaining about oni-senseis, Madara ducked his head and patted his cheeks, thoroughly embarrassed by their show of kindness. He truly didn't deserve to have such sweet brothers. But despite that, contradictorily, he was a selfish creature that would never let them go.

His smile turned into a frown at that, his chest twinging painfully. He wondered when exactly he should start to distance himself from them. He has not the will to live past the creation of Konohagakure and the erasure of Dokuzetsu, his soul too worn and tired to actually picture himself enjoying his retirement alone, his brother having married with their own families to look after.

Perhaps he should do them all the favor and take himself out of the picture early in their life. The only memories they would have of him would be that of a protective older brother and strict teacher - not the broken and foolish man who only thought that to achieve peace, he needed to bring war into play.

But then, who else would take care of them on his behalf when they were still young and vulnerable? To guarantee their safety? Not Tajima. The man proved himself useless the first time around.

When Yakumi tugged harder at his hair, gurgling for attention, he pushed those dark thoughts to the back of his mind ( _to submerse and steep_ ) and tickled his baby brother's stomach, loving the way he was cooed and giggled at in return.


	7. Chapter 7

Perhaps Madara should have reflected more about the inevitable consequences his actions and inactions would bring into the past. One of them was even staring vigilantly at him in the eye. Rather than Hashirama, Madara was looking at the rather boyish features of one Senju Tobirama, the shinobi who would one day become the _boogieman_ to all Uchiha children.

The boy looked as young as ten-years-old, maybe younger even, with a black sleeveless shirt tucked into unfashionable hakama pants, followed by a pair of wooden flip-flops. His arms, without any armor to pad it, looked skinny and frail. It made Madara soften ever so slightly, but he kept his distance, knowing that despite his young age, Tobirama was not to be underestimated.

What the future 'White Demon of the Senju' was doing at this particular creek when Madara had been - and still was - eagerly expecting for one Senju Hashirama's appearance was something that was of little interest to him. His only desire was to re-acquaint himself with his former best friend... _if_ he was even allowed to call then-Hashirama as such after the cringe-worthy stunt he pulled in the future-that-wouldn't-occur.

Knowing that it would take a _miracle_ for this younger version of his adversary to catch Madara unaware, he returned to skipping rocks on the waters' surface, already having put the baby Senju out of mind, but still aware of his movements. Funnily enough, after so long of throwing nothing but weapons, he has all but forgotten the technique required to make rocks skip further than twice.

As predicted, on its third skip, the rock sunk depressingly into the waters.

Unexpectedly, however, was the disdainful scoff heard from behind him, causing his muscles to loosen in preparation for any imminent attacks.

The sound reminded him far too much of **_that_ **grouchy Senju who constantly threw barbs at him during his time in Konohagakure, whispering ridiculous Uchiha conspiracies into Hashirama's ears. Madara instantly became enraged ( _mortified_ ), mind clouded with the many memories of them antagonizing each other to hell and back.

Madara would not be _Madara_ if he allowed this insult to go unpunished. Moreover, he could never tolerate anyone standing behind him, paranoia and 'what ifs' always clawing insistently at his whole being.

"Don't stand behind me!" Madara screeched, "Arsehole! You're obviously trying to distract me, you damn git!"

And without his say so, his body acted on engraved habit; he swirled and shot a pebble at the younger male, before readying himself for Tobirama to avoid his projectile with infuriating ease and insult Madra's ' _lack of_ ' accuracy afterward. However, his action must have been wholly unforeseen - _weirdly enough_ \- if he judged the look correctly.

The pebble bounced off Tobirama's forehead _innocently,_ leaving a circular red dot in place as proof of what had occurred not two seconds ago.

...

..

.

" _Pfft_ -!" Madara snorted unattractively at the completely _nonplussed_ expression the albino was wearing before losing all restraint. He threw his head back and _roared_ with laughter, hands on his stomach as he fought to keep the mirthful tears at bay.

His brazen sniggering, unfortunate, snapped the befuddled Senju back to reality. With an absolutely _livid_ glare ( _which Madara secretly found adorable, not that he would ever verbalize that out loud_ ), the Senju swung an angry fist towards Madara in retaliation.

Having expected as much from the short-fused savant, he easily side-stepped the younger shinobi's punch. Madara then goaded Tobirama as per routine - similar to how they would often squabble over _every_ _little_ _matter_ , which they, strangely enough, covertly appreciated due to it being quite the stress-reliever.

They might have had an antagonistic and strictly professional relationship, but dealing with butting clan heads, elders, and paperwork was mentally taxing. It just so happens that their schedules tend to overlap until they were all but tearing each other's throats to get some reprieve.

"Really, _snowflake_? My falcons could throw a better punch - and they're still eyasses. Shame on you. Tsk. How disappointing."

Tobirama didn't respond to his taunts immediately, though his expression did turn colder; if that was even humanly possible. The Senju continued to throw punches and kicks, and all the while, Madara was dancing around whilst snickering at the reddening face of one angry iceberg.

Maybe Madara could make the other shinobi hit the boiling point and melt to his death this time! He mentally crooned at the possibility.

As this was in play, Madara continued to spur the Senju on by trash talking. Tobirama wasn't one to disappoint. He gave as good as he got.

"As if you're one to talk Mr. I-can't-skip-rocks-to-save-my-life," Tobirama growled as Madara jumped, causing the boy's leg sweep to become entirely ineffective.

"I was out of practice!... _And_ far too busy for such infantile activities," He sneered defensively even as he grabbed the Senju by the wrist and, unthinkingly, tucked him slightly to the right into a better stance before letting go, too used to correcting his two little brothers' pathetic forms during their daily sparring sessions.

"Keep making excuses, you uncultured swine. Maybe one day they'll even come true," Tobirama sneered right back, teeth bared in a mocking manner. Madara easily deflected all of his strikes, using his fingers to jab at the areas that required more work.

"Who are you calling an uncultured swine?!"

He screeched in offense, which then caused his next choice of insults to be astonishingly _juvenile_ even to his own ears. Thankfully, he did not degrade to childish hair-pulling. _Yet_. There was just _something_ about Tobirama that made Madara want to poke and prod until the two of them exploded into petty name-calling that would make even _toddlers_ cringe at their lack of maturity.

"Well, you have a big forehead! _Hmph_!"

Madra then ungenerously jabbed his toes _extra_ hard into Tobirama's right hip, pushing the boy into a better defensive posture, and producing a grunt of in pain from the albino.

"Means I'm intelligent," Was the petulant respond whilst aiming for a backhand to Madara's face. Madara easily deflected, "All that's sizeable about you is your hair _and_ ego. Can't even skip stones all the way to the other side of the creek. _Hmph_! Pig."

"You're such an _insufferable brat_...! At least _I_ don't have two left feet. I recommend that you take your dance lessons more seriously. It'll do you no good to play truant just to skip rocks," he jeered, smirking when Tobirama overextended and stumbled, proving to Madara that he did, in fact, have two left feet.

"I don't dance," Tobirama deadpanned with narrowed eyes, spinning in for a wheel kick.

"I can see that," Madara ridiculed whilst sliding forward with his back bent, one hand striking out to raise the other shinobi's ankle higher before retreating, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sloppy footwork."

"Fuck you!" Tobirama spat angrily, his brain caught up on the insult of his taijutsu skills.

Using the core of his muscles, the albino changed his leg path into an ax kick, fluent and deadly. Madara grinned dementedly, eyes full of hunger as he raised his forearms and crossed it above his head. His ulna and radius creaked at the strain, which only made him hum in approval.

"No thank you. Although I applaud you for your stellar taste in men. Ultimately, I am humanity's finest specimen, thus I cannot blame you in your wicked desires," He blew a raspberry, making sure to look as smug as possible after that.

"AAA _ARGH_!" Tobirama suddenly stopped moving entirely, pulling at his hair in frustration.

At such an unexpectedly _childish_ tantrum, Madara abruptly took a few steps back, finally noticing that he had been visualizing the _then_ -Tobirama in place of the _now_ -Tobirama; the adult figure dissipating, replaced by the younger and boyish one.

Madara felt as if he had been slapped in the face with that realization.

It dampened the gleeful high he felt for winning one of their petty arguments which had caused the uptight albino to cuss out loud. No, it was not _their_ arguments; he was in the _past_ , not _there_. This was _a_ version of Tobirama, not the version he was most familiar with ( _Izuna's murderer, Hashirama's advisor, Madara's adversary_ ).

Not knowing why he felt so betrayed and heavy by such a thought, he slipped away unnoticed whilst the sweaty and haggard albino continued to mutter angrily to himself.

He needed a moment with his mistress named denial.

* * *

For the following visits, Madara had been fully expecting to see a boy with a ridiculous bowl cut hairstyle and poor fashion sense grinning goofily at him from the other side of the creek, but much to his initial disappointment, he only saw an albino with an almost Sharingan-red eyes and a petulant scowl etched permanently on his cherubic face. Never has he encountered the one he used to call a best friend.

Now, he only met with Senju Tobirama.

Shockingly enough, he had to reluctantly admit that he enjoys their time spent together. It had, however, taken them approximately thirteen meetings altogether before Tobirama gave out his name, and Madara to give a shortened version - _Dara_ \- of his in return.

Unlike back then, in this life, the name _Madara_ was too well known on the battlefield. A healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anybody; and intrinsically, he wasn't lying.

As soon as he pushed out those thoughts about meeting Hashirama in the near future, he started to wait for the dreaded day when Izuna would follow him on the orders of his father. It proved to be wasted time spent as his father did not notice his absence, too used to how Madara often fades into the background until called upon.

 _(Uchiha Tajima was truly a foolish man - too blind to truly see his heir's many strings that stretched from the shadows, binding the limbs of many of his clansmen and making them dance to his tune._ )

Tobirama has no tails as well, seeing that he was one of the best sensor-nins around despite his young age. He would never come to the creek if followed, lest he risks both their lives in unnecessary combat.

The brat, as much as Madara loathes to admit it, was by far smarter than him intellectually, having an IQ count that would make even a Nara feel dumb. Madara suspects that Tobirama did, in fact, investigate 'Dara' and came up with Uchiha Ma _dara_ ; the murderer capable of horrendous monstrosity, the Uchiha Devil, the one with wild hair, jaded abyss-gazing eyes, and gloved hands that were constantly caked in the blood of his foes.

But it was to Madara's unexpected pleasure that the younger shinobi did not bring reinforcements to cut him down. The albino only stared at him for long periods of time before grunting and returning to his usual behavior of being an utterly obnoxious brat with a stick too high up his arse that even the Sage of Six Paths could not pull out.

With Tobirama, there were no talks about dreamful peace times. There were only perpetual bickerings, spars that would often lead to Madara teasing and correcting Tobirama's taijutsu form, ninjutsu training, and quiet days when Tobirama would bring a few books for the occasional reading time and Madara imposing on them shamelessly.

Yet, whenever he saw the flash of white hair rather than the expected chestnut brown, he would feel his chest constrict tightly for a few short moments, where his breathing would pick up and his heart would start pounding loudly in his ears, before he all but _shove_ those feelings aside to greet the Senju with a taunting smirk, masking all of those useless emotions and enervation with confidence he did not have.

He knew what he had been feeling as of late; _loss_. At the fact that he has lost Hashirama so early in his second life without his knowledge.

He knew subconsciously, however, whenever he saw Tobirama on the other side of the creek, that the only encounters he would have with the dorky man were on a warring battlefront. And that made Madara despondent. Fighting against a Hashirama who dreamt of peace without Madara inside was heartbreaking. There would assumingly be no persuasion of peace talks or the desperate calling of Madara's name to beat the sense into him. Only a battle cry for his head. It was not something he was looking forward to if he were being honest.

There was also the potential that in this timeline, Tobirama could be the one to fight Madara in his brother's place, but those chances were slim and unlikely. Only Hashirama could outmatch Madara in the future, and Batsuma would most definitely pit the Mokuton user against him once that became a clear fact.

Even then, however, Madara would have _decades_ _upon decades_ worth of experience fighting _a_ Hashirama - be they friendly spars or death battles. An unfair advantage... until the Mokuton user grew into his _utterly monstrous_ power levels that dwarfed Madara's own baseline. Hashirama was considered the _strongest_ shinobi of all time for a reason, after all, and Hashirama, as loathed as Madara was to admit it, outclassed him badly.

On the other hand, he obtained a tentative friendship with a boy with a permanently scowling face. It gradually eased his disappointment and their meetings always gave him a peace of mind. He slept better nowadays, some of his dreams filled with positive feelings rather than his usual damaging night terrors.

With a sigh, Madara shook his head to free himself from his thoughts.

His eyelids were heavy with lethargy, but his mind raced with one too many thoughts. His body was downright exhausted, however. Turning slightly towards the windows, he peered at the full moon outside, his stare full of longing for _some kind_ of sign that he was on the right path.

It was still red.


	8. Chapter 8

The darkness of the night played little to no importance to his senses as Madara stalked through the forest, footsteps inaudible even as he stepped on twigs and dry leaves. He was a man on a mission; a mission that he could not afford to fail.

A shadow clone was, on his behalf, protecting his four little brothers as they slept, and in this manner, Madara would not be distracted, his full focal point on the task at hand.

Madara has, for the past few months, been scouting the Senju borders and stalking the Senju patrols whenever his _target_ was with them, and if not, he would return to his compound and guard his siblings whilst they were at their most vulnerable.

At the present time, his target was with four adults, surrounded and within the center of their team's formation. The four shinobi were at least jounin in their chakra reserves, which was highly unusual since, during the Warring States Period, elite ninjas were all but hoarded into the front lines.

He assumes that his target's young age and lineage played an important role in this particular placement. Madara reckons that they were on orders to teach, as well as to guard, his target - somewhat similar to how the Uchiha train their rookies.

His pitch-black eyes scrutinized them from head to toe, digesting their trim woven clothing, variant weapons, and well-cut armor. In times like these, he envies how minted the Senju were compared to the Uchiha. Custom-fitted _child_ armor was an extravagant expense that their clan could _never_ afford despite how keen Madara desired them for his little brothers.

Discounting their children-sized warriors, even the majority of his more mature clansmen wore only their high-collared mantles to battle. It was no wonder they often came back with grievous injuries or in a body bag.

Madara's fists clenched. Despite his best efforts, resources were ridiculously hard to obtain and easy to use up. Although Madara has discreetly guided their farmers on agronomics - thus decreasing his clan's chances of starvation - the crops they painstakingly grew were mostly traded to fund their future battles.

Tajima would often disregard their budgetary and purchase worthless consumables such as explosive tags or shuriken - using up what little investment Madara has painstakingly assembled. The man was like a bloodhound, sniffing around their home until he discovers Madara's hidden stashes. It was only thanks to his storage seal that Madara was able to inconspicuously ration his clans' livelihood, minimizing their chances of dying due to the lack of sustenance.

Just as he was about to continue his inner tirade and anti-Tajima remarks, his intuition screamed that something was up.

It was then he sensed it; a dozen chakra signatures incoming, and _fast_. Knowing that it would be difficult to keep his identity a secret if he were to intercept and engage them in combat, he snatched up a rock and threw it at the general direction of the incoming signatures.

That got the Senjus' attention. They communicated with their own version of hand signs and cautiously increased their vigilance. Thankfully, one of them seemed to be a sensor type (although quite lacking by Madara's standards). The sensor gestured quickly to the direction of the signatures and they retreated the other way.

Madara situated himself near to his target's group, his own chakra compressed to barely-there levels. Keeping his sensing ability open, he tracked the movements of the dozen non-Senju chakra behind him. They seemed to be entirely unaware that the Senju had changed course, their movements neither increasing nor decreasing.

Madara could only assume that the interlopers were either passing through the Senju clan's land... or on a deliberate hunt to weed out their numbers.

But judging by the size of the interlopers' group, the latter seemed more likely. And before Madara could ponder more on their identity or which clan they hail from, they suddenly surged forward with incredible momentum, their chakra flaring almost eagerly, thrilled at having found their prey, as they gave chase.

He would have stopped in his tracks, turned around, and assassinated them one by one to lessen the risk of his failing his mission, but with how often he scouted the Senju territory, he knew that the Senju guards were leading the interlopers to one of the more nastier traps.

Madara approves and decided to be a bystander for now.

* * *

Everything ended without Madara needing to intervene.

All in all, his self-appointed mission was a blooming success.

He had kept Senju Kawarama alive for the duration of this year - the exact same year the seven-year-old had been KIA during Madara's first childhood - before Madara went back to his regular nightly schedule. Hopefully, the lines under his eyes would return back to its primary size and stop _growing_ now.

And if he played the fool whenever Tobirama asks why he has been creepily skulking about Senju lands for the whole of this year, Madara would simply raise a condescending brow whilst stating _factually_ that he has no time for such inane things. And he wasn't one to _skulk_ nor was he _creepy_. Thank you very much.


	9. Chapter 9

Madara felt his pupils dilate, his breathing hitched ever so slightly when he finally saw _Hashirama_ , the bowl cut somehow a sight for sore eyes.

The man ( _teenager, not yet a man)_ stood to his father's right whilst his younger brother was to Butsuma's left, the both of them wearing fitted yet bulky green plated armor. The metal coverings ate at their scrawny stature, providing them with excellent protection against stray projectiles and blades.

Hashirama has on an expression of sombreness; lips pursed, brows furrowed, and chocolate brown eyes determined.

It made Madara feel bittersweet nostalgia; a tsunami of regrets and self-disappointment at having that look directed at him. He saw _that_ countenance one too many times during their clan wars back then, the man too stubborn and optimistic to take Madara's _no_ for an answer.

( _"Madara, please!" Hashirama stretched out a hand, palm upwards as he pleaded for Madara to consider his offer of a ceasefire, "An alliance between Hi no Kuni's two strongest clans will bring forth a new era of peace for us. Think about our future children, old friend - our clans' union has only benefits!"_

 _The Uchiha clan head bit the inside of his cheek, heart thumping loudly in his chest as he considered his options. Madara has always dreamt of peace; where his little brother, as well as all his clan's children, would be safe and protected. The Senju clan head must have seen his indecision, for Hashirama suddenly beamed, reminding the wild-haired man about their time spent together as children._

 _He took half a step forward but was stopped by an almost painful grip on his bicep. Izuna leaned against his side, eyes shadowed by his fringe as his lips thinned into a straight line._

 _"Don't be fooled, aniki. We can't trust them. What if this is all a ploy to loosen our guard? This Hashirama is not your friend, aniki. He's our enemy; the Senju clan head - the clan that slaughtered Ryouta in cold blood."_

 _At those words, Madara violently recalled the body of his second younger brother; desecrated and in pieces, the Senju symbol engraved arrogantly onto the decapitated forehead. He retreated two steps back, activated his Sharingan, and brought up his gunbai._

 _He saw Hashirama's smile falter, but he blocked the tsunami of emotions he was experiencing to the back of his mind and cooly stared at his former friend. The silence seemed to last for an eternity before Madara roared for his men to charge. The Senju clan head had his shoulders drooped in disappointment, but his eyes were blazing with determination. It made Madara tremble, whether it be with expectation or dread, he felt no desire to figure out._

 _Then-Madara never did see the disturbing smile playing on Izuna's lips. Only when this memory was replayed by now-Madara in his earlier years did he notice._

 _Thus it got him thinking; when had Izuna been possessed? Had Madara been manipulated his entire life? How many deaths had_ **Dokuzetsu** _orchestrated? Had all his little brothers' passing been Madara's fault? If Dokuzetsu had done it once, what stopped it from doing so again without Madara noticing a thing?_

 _The never-ending questions only brought a sense of foreboding and unease upon him._ )

He shook his head and focused on the present. He shouldn't be distracted during such a time. After all, a momentary mistake could lead to fatal outcomes.

The Senju were tensed and ready on the other side of the grassy field, close enough to engage in a glaring contest, yet far enough to defend or attack, whichever action more appropriate. His friend - _Tobirama, not Hashirama, his mind sullenly reminded him_ \- stared impassively at him, frosty red orbs not once moving away from his visage.

Madara bent his head slightly in a greeting, smiling slightly when his greeting was returned by the icy Senju, albeit more stiffly.

His body felt oddly warm at Tobirama's uncomplicated acceptance of Madara's background, which in turn made Madara frown. If he were to get sick now, it would be most unfortunate. Leaving the fate of his health to mother nature, he pushed those useless observations aside to ponder on other more important matters.

 _Knowing_ about Madara's bloodstained horror stories and _seeing_ it live were two entirely different concepts. Madara was a war genius, his battlefield persona more heinous than the average shinobi. The Uchiha did not accept that side of him, what say Tobirama, an overly cautious Senju who was also _too_ _young_ \- malleable by outside forces?

With his head tilted slightly forward, his fringe ominously shadowed his features as he idly fingered the handle of his gunbai uchiwa. He needed to stop thinking too much. This was, again, hardly a good time to ponder on such issues. Sighing inaudibly, he propped his weapon of choice on his shoulder, the weight of his gunbai reassuring.

He knew he made for a ridiculous picture, however; a thirteen-year-old wielding an oversized fan that was as large as he was tall, if not larger. He hadn't had the chance to use his favorite weapon this early in the timeline before, even Tajima had looked at him weirdly when he brought a gunbai with him to this skirmish.

Izuna stood at Madara's left, wearing only their standard mantle without armored protection (Madara strongly wished Tajima would gather more clients and fix their financial situation already), an impressive scowl engraved on his cherubic features and dual-wielding two unsheathed tanto swords.

Madara's hand fell on his tensed, slender shoulder, squeezing it gently in comfort. His little brother's muscles relaxed, albeit slightly, at the assurance that Madara would look after him.

This would be Izuna's first time fighting against an army in one of their wars. It was also Madara's first time seeing both Hashirama and Tobirama on the opposite side of the battlefield despite the many times he has crossed blades against the Senju army - most of the time engaged with Butsuma's second-in-command.

It was a little amusing that the three were virgins in the Uchiha vs Senju war despite how skilled they were. But Madara should not compare himself to them. It would be otherwise unfair. Everyone else would only enter the major clan wars when conditions were met to avoid useless deaths. Hence, Madara knew the Senju's elites by face alone as their clans always clashed, and vice versa, almost always resulting in a stalemate.

He had been drafted into this playing field as soon as Tajima saw his fully matured Sharingan; which was at the tender age of seven when he had been careless. His first time had been hectic and messy, with many Senju twice his size trying to cut down the 'tiny and vulnerable' baby Uchiha. They were probably rolling in their graves with regret right now.

Madara had done his best to keep his little brothers out of any major clan battles, and it had worked, most of the time Izuna and Ryouta would _coincidentally_ be out on mission runs when they were preparing a strike force. Until now, that was.

There was no more delaying for Izuna since he has awakened his Sharingan a few months back. Madara did his best to train his eldest baby brother in mastering his one-comma Sharingan with the limited time given in order to prepare him for the worst.

And his predictions always came true as of late. Izuna was drafted into their army by the clan elders.

"It seems Butsuma has brought his two eldest sons with him this time," Tajima stated the obvious, voice an imposing baritone, "Madara, they are your targets. I expect for you to bring me their heads. Failure is _not_ an option. Izuna, you are to remain close to Hikaku and assist whenever required."

Both Izuna and Hikaku - a teen older than Madara's physical body by a good few years - gave a verbal affirmative whilst Madara simply nodded, his mane bouncing at his movement. He has never once spoken out loud to his father in this life, and he would continue to uphold his silence whenever in the man's presence.

Then, as if there was an invisible signal, both clan heads raised their right arm in complete sync, glaring at one another with venom in their eyes, before slashing their hand forward. The two armies ran, battle cries taking over the grassy field as blades clashed, shuriken flew, and jutsus run wild.

Madara kept his senses open, constantly aware of Izuna's movements even as he ducked the incoming projectiles and swung his gunbai, producing a huge gust that blew back a portion of the Senju forces as if they were mere paper dolls. Their surprised exclamations made his ego swell.

When one overly eager Senju shinobi he has never seen before blocked his way, Madara didn't stop in his tracks. He raised his gunbai and slammed it into the Senju's side, batting the man away like a fly with a strength that did not proportionate to his young body.

The shinobi went flying, some of his ribs probably broken, only for another unfamiliar face to step forward in his place. The newcomer, however, was too near for Madara to swing his gunbai in a wide arc. At the gall, Madara could only sigh, knowing that he was yet again being underestimated due to his body's young age. It grew tiring after a while.

He dodged the soldier's enthusiastic thrust and grabbed ahold of the man's front armor. Seeing that he was shorter, he swiftly _tugged_ , his unexpected action having caused the Senju to stumble down to his height. Madara reckons his opponent was only chuunin in skill just by that alone.

As soon as they were on eye level, his dark eyes turned crimson. His opponent did not have any time to react as he was instantly pulled into a genjutsu. Madara released his hold on the armor and sidestepped the frothing man as he fell to his knees.

Making his way through downed bodies and trained killers was a headache.

It was only half an hour later - after he had been thoroughly soaked in the blood of his foes u and his own wounds - did he reach one of his two intended targets. He had done his best to disable, but when fighting for one's life, the easier option was always to kill. A moment of hesitation would, in turn, bring his downfall.

Madara self-consciously wiped his cheek with one billowing sleeve when Tobirama paused to take in the state of him, not noticing how it had just increased the mess on his face due to how soiled and singed his clothes were. He was sure he looked messier than he felt, with blood soaking through his mantle and hair, and his gunbai stained almost completely red.

He frowned unhappily when he saw the wounds inflicted on his friend, the grip on his gunbai's handle tightening. Knowing that he could not do anything about it, he angrily exhaled from his nose and raised his weapon. That made Tobirama wary, his muscles bunching up in preparation to dodge.

After a few moments of deliberation, he thought better of it. He strapped his gunbai to his back and engaged Tobirama in a taijutsu battle as the albino somehow seemed to have lost his sword. Newbies would only learn to keep their weapons close after they have gained more experience (if they were still breathing).

His lips quirked upwards, his smile hidden by the high collar of his mantle when he noticed the improvement in Tobirama's form. His strikes were precise and his footsteps steady. Madara's lessons seemed to stick, but he had expected no less from the Senju genius.

"Outstanding muscle memory, Tobira," he whispered his praise, startling the albino slightly, "Your dance has improved tremendously. I'm glad."

To show how happy he was with Tobirama's progress, he planted a foot into the younger male's solar plexus, causing the albino to gag as he fell to his knees, hands on his abdomen. Not even thinking of stopping his advances, Madara grabbed the Senju by his white strands and mercilessly tugged on it, forcing the tween to bare his neck.

The coercion of the Sharingan, when mixed with his skills in genjutsu, was a fearsome combination. Even then-Tobirama would have done everything to avoid it. This younger and more inexperienced Tobirama, however, reacted one second too late.

Of course, Madara would not hurt his friend too badly. The petulant brat would nag his ears off otherwise.

"Demonic Illusion: Hell Viewing Technique," he murmured, his Sharingan spinning in a hypnotic manner.

Tobirama's red eyes glazed over and his face turned slack, a trail of saliva leaking down his chin. However, just as Madara was pulling out a kunai to temporarily disable Tobirama - a few non-serious wounds that would leave him debilitated for a month or two - he was knocked skywards by thick, wooden branches that sprouted from the earth.

He grunted as he landed in a safety roll, a hand on his bruised abdomen and an annoyed glare at the Mokuton user who had foiled his plans at keeping Tobirama temporarily safe and away from the brutal war.

"Tobirama!" Hashirama yelled in panic as he cradled his younger brother's limp form to his chest, "Stay with me, Tobi! W-What did you do to him?!"

Before he could decide on his next course of action... _or rather,_ whilst he had been thoroughly distracted by Hashirama's distressful agitation, Butsuma's second-in-command appeared next to him, a slash aimed at his eyes and killing intent leaking from the man in spades.

If Madara had actually been a thirteen-year-old kid, his body would've undoubtedly started to tremble uncontrollably due to the heavy pressure exerted by the Senju. It would've been the prime opportunity to forever blind the Uchiha heir and give his clan a moral down.

Alas, Madara was decades older in mind and had faced down _Bijuus_ in his spare time.

He performed an awkward back handspring just in the nick of time - the sword had cut an ugly gash under his right eye - and used the momentum in his hands to push himself off of the ground rather than going along with the retreating motion, a foot aimed at the elder shinobi's wrist.

 _Crack_.

To have his ankle cleanly broken in half with a portion of his tibia sticking out of his skin hadn't been his intention. It was a miscalculation on his part to have not added his lighter body weight into account.

The sword went flying, indeed, but Butsuma's second-in-command was uncaring to that fact, more eager to slow Madara's speed than anything else. He allowed Madara's foot to connect to his wrist, releasing his weapon without worries, and captured the Uchiha's ankle in his hands. It took less than a second for Madara to realize the error of his judgment (he should've retreated), and that split second had cost him.

Madara didn't react to the pain. He had endured worse than just a useless foot to stand on. Using the tight muscles of his core, he curled his upper body upwards whilst taking a deep breath in, his fingers locked in a tiger hand seal.

The man, with alarm in his eyes, released Madara's ankle hurriedly, but it was far too late.

"Katon: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique," he exhaled directly into the man's face before landing on a handstand, cartwheeling away towards the direction of the closest Uchiha signature until he was all but leaning against one of his kin, his breathes coming out in puffs, chest heaving for oxygen.

Madara felt relief when he looked up and saw it was Hikaku. The other teen was neutral, he neither likes nor dislikes Madara. Hikaku looked bruised and beaten, but he still kept an arm wrapped protectively around Madara's waist, expression contemplating; as if he was debating if he should lift Madara altogether.

"Izuna?" Madara panted, not up to talking in full sentence just yet, and winced slightly when his ribs were jolted by their high-speed movements.

"With Tajima-sama."

Dizzy as he was from the blood loss and fatigue, Madara almost demanded Hikaku to rush him to their clan head. He did not trust Tajima to keep Izuna safe _at all_. Before Madara could do so, however, a loud shout was heard.

"Retreat!"

With blood and adrenaline pounding in his ears, he didn't know who was the one who actually called for a retreat, but retreat they all did. Both the Senju and Uchiha rushed back to their respective sides, picking up injured, unconscious, or dead comrades along the way.

The first thing Madara did when he saw Izuna was to head directly to his younger brother, his gloved hands immediately flying to pat Izuna's body. At the moment, he ignored how blank Izuna's expression was - more keen on searching for any life-threatening wounds - and sighed in relief when they were at most superficial.

He then nodded at Hikaku, showing his gratitude for protecting Izuna and supporting Madara, and mentally taking note of their interactions for future purposes. The teen smiled grimly in return, head bowed slightly in a show of respect to their clan's heir.

"A... _Aniki_ ," Izuna whispered, too pale, too expressionless, _too lost_. It caused an ache in his chest, dread and protectiveness pooling in his gut.

Without caring that they were still on the battlefield, he pulled his little brother ( _young, still so young, too young_ ) into a hug.

Izuna, unlike how he often yells in embarrassment at being treated like a kid, did nothing to stop him. Skinny arms wrapped themselves around Madara as trembling fingers dug bruises into his back, hiccoughs and hitched breathing being smothered against Madara's chest.

"S-Satoshi-san d-d- _died_. Akinari-san. Hi-Hideo-s-s-san. All. _T-they're all_ -"

* * *

 _[The metallic and rusty smell of both fresh and flaking blood on aniki was thick, clashing horribly with his more soothing scent of pine needles and ashes. But it was the better alternative to the stench of burnt meat, piss, and shit. More horrendous than any abattoir and made him violently ill from just a whiff._

 _Izuna wanted nothing but to flee and never look back at such carnage ever again, no matter how unrealistic that may be thanks to the recall ability of the Sharingan and his duties to his clan. He knew he was already part of their army - and only in old age, permanent disability, or death will he be allowed out._

 _When he had been younger, the prospect of being selected would've made him a_ very _happy child. Izuna has envied aniki (and he felt disgusted by his own feelings. How could he betray the one who protects him by allowing such things to fester inside him?) for his older brother's talent._

 _But... This?_

 _This... Madness. Insanity._

 _Death, more death, a never-ending plague-_

 _Never before has Izuna felt such dismay and sadness_ for _his aniki, all feelings of envy having left him as soon as he had been flanked by the bulkier and taller Senju warriors. If not for Hikaku, Izuna would've been a goner. And this was aniki's day to day life. It scared Izuna._

 _What if Madara-ani was KIA one day?_

 _What if Madara-ani had been KIA when he was younger?_

 _It chilled Izuna to the bone._

 _He had been such a foolish child. How could he have once upon a time envied Madara-ani for such a brutal life? He would do anything to remain ignorant of this war of theirs with the Senju - the hatred in their enemies' eyes were intense, and it burnt._

 _He could feel resentfulness build up inside of him, all directed at his father, elders, Senju, whoever else he didn't know - the_ _ones who had once upon a time forced a_ seven-year-old _Madara-ani (from the whispers he heard from his clansmen, much to his horror) to this type of madness one too many times, causing his aniki to become so desensitized to human life that he even_ disregards his own.

 _He was not blind to his older brother's faults and weaknesses._

 _Izuna tightened his hold on his brother, not wanting to let go in fear that his brother would lose the last of his rationality and_ end it.

 _Had it been Izuna in aniki's shoes, he knew he would not have survived such inhumanity and madness shoved at him from such an age. Now he understood why aniki did not want him on the front lines - he feared for Izuna's safety. Even Izuna feared for his own safety. But what other options did he have?_

 _Were they born to die at the hands of Senju, and vice versa? So many of his uncles and cousins have already perished_ just now _-_

 _No, he shouldn't think about it. Or else he would vomit all over aniki and infected wounds were the last thing he wanted Madara-ani to have._

 _How aniki can still remain kind and gentle after experiencing such monstrous things, he did not know. But he knew he would have to grow stronger so that he could protect his aniki in return from now on (protect aniki from himself, even)_ _. And he wouldn't care if aniki continues to smother him with overprotective affection anymore - he needed all the comfort he could get after this_ _devastating experience._ _]_

* * *

"- _they're all dead._ What if Hikaku-san had been _a second slower?_ I would've _also-_ " Izuna keened.

"Izuna, hey. I'm here. Aniki is here. Listen, we can't stay here any longer. I'm going to carry you. Everything's going to be-" Madara bit his own tongue to physically halt his next choice of words. ' _Fine_ ' didn't seem to be applicable nor appropriate at this circumstance, "You'll cope with this, I promise."

Knowing that this was not a safe place for Madara to continue reassuring his brother nor permit Izuna a breakdown just yet, he bodily lifted and repositioned Izuna until the little one has his arms over Madara's shoulders and legs wrapped around his hips.

He whispered for the younger Uchiha to hold onto tightly before he shot off towards his fellow clansmen, purposefully ignoring the way his body protested with every painful step he took, his ankle making awful crunching sounds.

Unlike the Senju, Uchiha medics weren't permitted onto the battlefield by the elders' and clan head's law - or to even leave their compound. They were too few in numbers. The Uchiha, after all, were _literally_ born for aggressive assaults, not healing.

For even a stubborn bastard like Madara, it had taken him almost _all_ of his lifespan to master it. Hence, those few gifted Uchiha medic-nins were cherished, never to be left without someone to guard them. And Madara would rather die than remain a _prisoner_ in his own home - which was why he omitted many of his capabilities.

 _(If Madara had not the aptitude for perfecting whatever he learns, be they fuuinjutsu, iryō jutsu, or rock skipping, Obito - someone who had had_ half _their head and upper body smashed into_ mush _\- would've undoubtedly died_ before _Madara could successfully implement Hashirama's cells into him. It wasn't luck that kept the boy alive. And it wasn't by chance that the younger Uchiha was barely able to lift a finger without feeling pure agony, neither crippled or lively, just debilitated and compliant until Madara's words were able to seep deeply into his head and -)_

Madara tightened his grip on Izuna and entered the center of the protective formation of his clansmen, running alongside those that were too injured to defend themselves from outside forces. His fellow veterans politely turned away to give Izuna and the other new recruits a semblance of privacy even as they continued to retreat.

Everyone here knew exactly what a new recruit was going through. They had, after all, been in the exact same shoe once upon a time; when all of them were still far too young to be brought into the frontier - now damaged and jaded despite only being in their late teens to early twenties. Not many exceeded the age of thirty in these violent times.

Mental breakdowns were painfully common for first-time youngsters that fought in one of their major battles. Some vomited immediately upon reaching the compound, some couldn't sleep for days to come, some would hide in their rooms to cry for their dead relatives and friends, completely traumatized by the event, and others came back in body bags.

Child soldiers were pitiful little things, fighting for reasons unknown whilst their leaders continued to draft more and more of them into the army. Madara, despite not an actual child, felt that adults were silly in their conquest for peace (he _had been silly)_. Seeking amity whilst at the same time spilling blood... It was antithetical yet factual. Two sides of the same coin.

They had lost so many good men to it. Their fallen kin, many of them currently being carried back to the compound for a bonfire funeral, perished due to their ancestor's feud. Tajima's second-in-command would then go around to inform their parents or spouse or children that they have fallen in battle.

It made him wonder if anyone had given him a proper, traditional Uchiha funeral after the Fourth Shinobi World War had ended. Ah, probably not. There were no Uchiha but Sasuke left alive, after all.

As soon as they reached the compound, Izuna was violently snatched from his protesting arms and thrown to Hikaku, before Tajima all but dragged Madara to the clan head's office by his hair. When he finally came out an hour later, it was with twice the bruisings he had already gotten from the battle.

 _Punishment for failure_ , his father had intoned, striking Madara again and again and again _and again_ until he finally lost all rage and barked for Madara to leave his sight.

Izuna, with tears running down his reddish cheeks, rushed to Madara's side the second he enters his bedchamber. His younger brother bandaged and stitched what he could, then began soothing the fresh bruises with gentle head pats and peppered kisses, imitating what Madara had done when Izuna had been younger and more prone to accidental falls.

It helped ease the fatigue away.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter (ღ˘⌣˘ღ). Please tell me your thoughts~

P.S. Ho ho ho! I'm going on a camping trip tomorrow for my birthday so I won't be updating for a while (⋟﹏⋞)...


	10. Chapter 10

Was it Lady Fate or Madam Destiny that insisted Madara run left _and_ right into someone of Senju origin? He could only shake his head at the bizarre string of coincidences.

He had only wanted to remove himself from the unexpected blizzard during his run back from a successful mission. This cave he was currently standing inside of had been his first choice; hidden in plain sight and narrow enough to block out the cold weather.

But, unfortunately, it came with unwanted company.

"You alive, kid?" Madara toed the clammy looking nine-year-old boy, who was leaning bonelessly against one part of the wall, a small puddle of blood pooling underneath him.

Whilst his eyes carefully assessed the young shinobi for potential ambushes or trickery, he simultaneously compared the child's measurements with Ryouta's. His second younger brother currently lacked any protective gear, and if this kid wasn't going to make it out of here alive, Madara would rather the boy donate his armor to someone who needed it more.

The only eyesore would be the Senju crests engraved on the neck guard. But Madara was always efficient and handy - ridding them would not be an issue in the long run.

He crouched down to one knee, squinting his eyes suspiciously at the barely breathing and severely Senju. The kid didn't look at all familiar to Madara, which meant that the child must have died long before Konohagakure was founded.

He felt pity and sorrow that someone so young was dying from such terrible injuries ( _purposeful wounds that inflicted unnecessary pain rather than a swift death_ ), but he wasn't a saint who would attempt to save every single wounded individual he came across, he was a shinobi, a damn good one too.

Even a toddler wielding a kunai was an enemy, what say this lad? Madara could be putting the lives of his kin at risk if he were to heal someone who was clearly from a hostile clan. Cold, indeed, but Madara has always known himself to be cruel and heartless.

The boy's hair, however, pulled at Madara's gut to investigate and not leave the child to his fate.

Didn't Hashirama once say that he has a younger brother with skunk-colored hair?

"Itama, was it?" He pondered out loud, fingers drumming idly against his chin.

The name caused the boy to twitch - and that was enough for Madara to consider his options. A short moment of contemplation later, he decided that he would rather be safe than sorry. If this was indeed Senju Itama... Madara not healing him would have added yet another column to his already long list of regrets.

He didn't want the now-Tobirama and now-Hashirama to know the pain of losing a sibling.

It was a dreadful experience Madara wished to never repeat; an echo of nothing but hopelessness, helplessness, and bitterness in his heart - easily malleable to outside manipulations due to the unyielding hurt and loss he constantly felt. Those ugly emotions of despair had driven him, once a protective guardian who dreamt of building a settlement for the future generation, into _the_ madman seeking an illusionary world without caring about the repercussions or fatality.

Even then-Tobirama had fallen prey to that brand of insanity; loneliness and desperation having driven Edo Tensei into creation.

They were not that different, Tobirama and Madara, both wanting their brothers alive again one way or another. It was only that the former knew when to stop and move on, whilst the latter allowed his grief to consume and drive him into a broken mess of hatred and instability.

If he could prevent a bad ending from happening, why should he not? He had already changed his little brothers' and Kawarama's fate, anyway. Besides, he owed then-Hashirama too much to turn a blind eye.

Acting on the presumption that this was Hashirama's and Tobirama's youngest brother, Madara lifted one glowy green hand and placed it atop the boy's armored chest, doing an initial scan. If he was wrong in his assumption, he could always brush this action of his into his soul's extremely tiny 'good deeds' bin.

When his chakra feedbacked that Itama had internal bleeding due to the many stab wounds on his abdomen and a shite ton of broken bones, Madara had almost declared him a lost cause.

These kinds of injuries were similar to death sentences in this period. Nobody in this era, apart from Hashirama with his innate Renegeration Ability, could survive such wounds - what with their lack of advance iryo jutsu and treatment plans, many of which _Tsunade_ created.

"You're quite the lucky boy, Senju; for I have actually taken the time to study her arsenal," He grumped at the skunk-haired boy, "Being all alone in that underground cave was _boring_."

After putting maybe-Itama into a supine position, Madara started a small fire before sitting in seiza by the boy's side. With pinched eyebrows, he used ninja wires to half-heartedly bunch up his mane into a messy bun, freeing his face from the bird's nest he called his hair.

Subsequently, he relieved the boy of all possession except his clothes and placed two glowing blue hands on the boy's heavily injured abdomen. Madara did not bother with anesthesia and went straight into surgery with the help of Chakra Scapels.

The procedure took _hours_ , and thankfully, the snowstorm kept people away _._ There was no need for Madara to waste time or energy by halting his treatment in order to _take care_ of uninvited guests.

Sitting on the back of his heels, Madara wiped the perspiration on his forehead. Manipulating his large chakra pool with such precision has always given Madara a headache. It drained him mentally more than physically, the memories of healing Obito playing like a broken record within his mind's eye. His tongue tasted oddly like ash at the reminder.

Knowing that the boy was now out of danger, Madara shrugged off the haori he was wearing over his mission-yukata and wrapped the boy into a burrito, not wanting his hard work to be wasted if maybe-Itama died due to hypothermia.

Madara then made himself as comfortable as he could get on his side of the wall, huddled into a ball, and waited impatiently for the blizzard to wane. He must have gone into a meditative trance, as his limbs were stiff and his neck aching when he moved into another position.

Madara yawned as he stretched his muscles, groaning blissfully when his spine popped at all the right places.

"W-where...?" A childish voice suddenly croaked, maybe-Itama's head peeking out from the clothes-burrito, skin pale and clammy.

"The borders of Hi no Kuni. Near Ame no Kuni," He grunted, rubbing a heavy-lidded eye. The cold has always made him lethargic. However, that was no excuse to drop his guard. A kunai in his sleeve was ready to be used at a moment's notice.

Maybe-Itama sluggishly sat up, Madara's haori flopping down his lap. In a daze, his eyes passed Madara's form unseeingly as he stretched, only to snap out of his drowsy state not a second later. His chocolate brown eyes were filled with awe as he dazedly patted his healed abdomen.

"I... I'm healed? How? Did you... _Did you heal me?_ " The Senju asked, sounding overwhelmed as his fingers traced over the expanse of healthy skin on his stomach. The younger shinobi then shifted slightly, glancing about and grimacing when he saw the terrible weather.

The Uchiha heir shrugged nonchalantly, "I did."

"Why?"

The Senju's eyes were wary, fingers twitching rather noticeable over his shuriken pouch. Madara wasn't worried - seeing that all of the boy's weapons and armor were inside his storage seal tattoo.

"I'd rather not share a cave with a dead body for an undetermined amount of time," Rather than telling the boy that Madara was friends with his maybe-older brother Tobirama, Madara casually drawled in a bored manner.

"You could have just thrown me out. I wasn't in any condition to fight back either way," Maybe-Itama pointed out rather stupidly, in Madara's opinion. He could not help but roll his eyes at the younger shinobi. _Senjus and their honesty._

"I'll be sure to do that the next time I see you painting the ground red."

"I would rather you not," All of a sudden, the two-toned Senju slumped, expression changing into something softer and less guarded, "I appreciate your kindness, mister. Truly. Not many would do something like this. I'm- My name is Itama. If... If we ever meet again, I swear I'll repay this debt back to you. Please tell me your name!"

Madara turned away, uncomfortable with the grateful stare he was receiving. It seems Hashirama was not the only one in his family to have such weird mood swings.

"... You may call me _Dara_ , little one," He paused for a split second before bulldozing shamelessly, eager to change the topic, "And I'm taking your armor as compensation for my humanitarian aid."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you all for such wonderful comments (and to those that wished me a happy bday; thank you so much!). Don't worry, kiddies, there will be Tobi's POV in the future (including timeskips etc). Please tell me your thoughts （*´▽`*)!

Phew! I rushed to edit and post this immediately after I have recovered from my hangover. The camping trip was awesome! A few days out and about with nature, without the internet and social media to distract you, truly does wonders to your mental state. I've never been this relaxed in YEARS |*￣ー￣|


	11. Chapter 11

Madara yelped when Izuna yanked too roughly, the abrupt pull of the comb causing him to collapse backwards into Izuna's lap. He directed a glare at the thirteen-year-old, mumbling inaudible profanities even as he returned to his floor cushion, automatically falling into seiza.

"Sorry, 'Dara-ani," Izuna apologized half-heartedly, more focused on having his fingers dig through Madara's monster of a hair for the missing comb.

"If you truly wish to apologize, you will cease and desist this pointless endeavor-" Madara cut himself off to bite the insides of his cheek when Izuna made a sound of triumph and proceeded to _try_ and extract the comb, tangled hair and all, from his mane with all the finesse of a raging Bijuu.

"When was the last time you actually combed? It's full of knots... even if it's floofy - which is _completely_ unfair, by the way - like the fur of a wild Siberian cat! Or maybe a highland cow. Oh, oh! A duster budgie! Yep, definitely that. Both the birds and aniki have three-quarters of the face covered, after all! But then there's the-"

Madara prayed to Sage for endless patience ( _I will not kill my little brother, I will not kill my little brother, I_ ** _will not kill my little brother_** -) as he mentally counted backwards from sixty.

Despite how slowly he went from number to number, Izuna was still trying - and _failing_ , he might add - to detangle his tresses from the teeth of the comb.

And. He. Would. Not. Stop. Comparing. Madara. To. _Fluffy_. Animals! Which part of him looks anything like them?!

... _Maybe_ the duster budgie, Madara grudgingly admits.

"Well?" Izuna grumped expectantly, his expression a mix of amusement and frustration at his brother's ongoing silence.

Madara's lips parted, ready to snap out an answer... before falling into deep contemplation. _When_ exactly has Madara taken the time to groom his hair? He shuffled through a decade worth of memories, starting from his unanticipated arrival into this second life of his.

When he couldn't find such impressions, he dived deeper into memory lane.

It took a few moments, but his perfect recall helped greatly. Madara had been... about fourteen when he last used a comb on his own. After that, he simply forwent grooming altogether. Even during his old age, he only cut his mane with a kunai when it grew too long and dragged all over the ground.

 _It used to be Izuna who -_

Madara returned back to the present when he felt a finger poke at his cheek. Just in time, too, for he was feeling bittersweet longing at the memories of his past.

"What?" He snapped, feigning annoyance as he batted the offending digit away.

"This might be farfetched, but I'm just gonna assume you've never touched a comb _in your life_ ," Izuna stated dryly, sighing as if he had expected as much from him, "In retrospective, I should've known better than to ask you anything about your personal care. Aniki, you're _hopeless_."

Madara bristled, offended.

What did Izuna mean by hopeless? He made sure he was as healthy as any other shinobi ( _he meticulously rationed his own food so that he ate the minimum required to stay fit, his brothers needed more than him as they were growing boys_ )! It wasn't completely his fault his body was constantly tired. And that was due to the age of his soul, and _appearance_ wasn't important to him. He had more urgent matters to attend to than waste time sitting in front of a mirror and fight a futile battle against his wild mane.

"I am not," He ended up saying firmly ( _he wasn't sulking, really_ ), "We're shinobi - there's no purpose in vanity."

"It's not _vanity_ , aniki. It's _self-care_. Learn the difference! Alright, you know what? I've decided - we're taking the rest of the day off to pamper ourselves," Izuna announced in mock solemnity, looking ridiculous whilst at it, "Now turn around and sit still so I can tame this bad boy into submission!"

Madara gave a blank look over his shoulder. Izuna returned it with one raised, unimpressed brow. Their stare-off lasted for about a split second before Madara grunted, looking away with a scoff _(it wasn't a pout, really, dammit!_ ). It made Izuna smirk in victory.

 _What a_ _conceited brat_ , Madara groused inwardly with a harumphed.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was spoiling them rotten. He was always _too_ tolerant of them, and they know to take advantage of that weakness of his. It was also only them that Madara allowed positioned at his back, too mistrustful and insecure to permit anyone else.

It was many _hours_ and broken combs later, with Madara's temper close to snapping and Izuna thoroughly exhausted by the _workout_ , did they finally manage to tame his mane into a high ponytail, the ends still long enough to touch the small of his back.

It made him shiver when his bare neck was caressed by the wind.

"There we go! All done. Now we can all finally see more than a quarter of your face. I almost forgot what you look like, aniki!" Izuna sounded proud and pleased, which in turn made Madara's bad mood disappear. If his brother was happy, Madara was happy.

"Hm? What's this...?"

Madara shuddered and jolted forwards when a finger suddenly traced his nape, where one of his inked seals rested at. It was just his luck that today, of all days, Izuna had guilt-tripped him into grooming his hair whilst he was not wearing his usual high collared mantle.

It had slipped his mind that his long and tangled mess of a hair actually helped cover some of his tattoo seals.

"Aniki..." Izuna's careful voice made Madara wrap his ponytail around his neck in a bashful manner as if it were a scarf, "Is that a tattoo?"

Knowing that it would be pointless to deny, he nodded, "Yes." _Technically_.

"It's... Nice, I guess...?" Izuna spoke slowly as if his brain had short-circuited, moving to sit in front of Madara so that they could talk face-to-face, "Looks painful."

"It was," He grimaced in remembrance.

It had taken him a whole day to meticulously ink his nape using two mirrors, almost killing his arms with such dreadful positioning. He had no choice but to place the seal there, however. That was the only place, apart from his heart ( _which he would not be placing any seals on, thank you very much_ ) and throat, that he would guard diligently.

The seal was triangular in shape with intricate lines and circles inside, stretching from the base of his skull to the top of his scapulas. He didn't have an official name for this creation of his since he wasn't all too good at naming anything, but he called it the EBC Seal, short for Energy Balance and Combine Seal.

It was basically a seal that automatically stores, combines, and balances natural energy with his own chakra reserves upon activation. A replacement for one of his past life's skill set.

It allows for Madara to enter Sage Mode whenever he desires - the only downside was that it takes up to _five_ whole years for the natural energy to synchronize enough for him to use it without turning into a statue. Hence, it was more of a last-effort attempt at turning the tables or a limited power-up boost when he battles Dokuzetsu, rather than something casual.

The seal was also extremely dangerous.

The only reason why Madara felt confident enough at having this EBC Seal on his skin was because he knew how to properly employ it without turning to stone; what with having been a _Sage_ with the help of Hashirama's cells once upon a time. Furthermore, any damage on the seal ( _skin_ ) could potentially bring harm to him once the senjutsu chakra begins to leak out in dystopian spades.

Ultimately, this seal was useless in the hands of both normal shinobi and senjutsu practitioners. Madara didn't even bother to keep a hard copy of it, the soft copy already burnt into his mind's library thanks to his Sharingan's recall ability.

"Huh. Look at that. I'm actually glad you've picked up something else to enjoy without our prompting, anija - even if it's to cover your whole body in ink. You've never actively shown interest in anything outside of training and knitting. And you avoid going outdoors in the daylight, which is why some of the kids call you a vampire," Izuna pointed out rudely as if Madara was a reticent, blood-drinking bastard who was also socially inept.

He denies everything with crossed arms, "Just because I do not broadcast my interests does not mean I have none other. I find crocheting to be just as alluring as knitting."

"Uhm, that kinda makes no difference...?"

"Blasphemy," he sneered, "Do you not see and feel the differences in stitching techniques between your handmade scarves?"

" _No_ ," Izuna deadpanned, and when Madara's lips parted to vocalize a passionate lecture about his side-craft, Izuna quickly changed the topic, "What's that on your forehead?"

His little brother blinked deviously innocent large eyes at him. His fingers automatically flew up to align his fringe as a curtain, but awkwardly fell back to his sides when he felt all of his hair already tied neatly behind his head.

"A rhombus," He snarked.

Whilst not his own creation, Madara wasn't unashamed to say that he would, in a heartbeat, steal another person's signature jutsu if it would benefit him in the long run.

The Strength of a Hundred Seal that Hashirama's granddaughter created was a _masterpiece_. Madara would be a fool to not utilize it to his convenience. Especially with his superb chakra control abilities despite his large reserves.

Tsunade had proven how astonishing this jutsu was during the Fourth Shinobi War. It also came with the bonus of shortening the lifespan of the user if used to heal fatal and extreme wounds. Perfect for someone who did not desire a long life.

... Although the shape did make him feel self-conscious enough to want to keep it hidden at all times. It reminded him too much of Mito. In spite of their similar design, however, he doubted hers functioned similar to his, or if hers were even a seal/iryo jutsu-based ink in the first place. It might just be for beauty purposes.

"Alright, whatever. I know when to take a hint, geez. Let's go to the onsen next! Maybe that can cure your eyebags - even if slightly," Izuna grinned cheekily, always the tactful one between them both. Madara deadpanned.

"No."

"Ehh?! Why not?!" Izuna tugged on Madara's sleeve with a whine, eyes wide and shining with crocodile tears, "Skinship is the key to making friends, aniki!"

Madara, with a blank face, stood up from his cushion and briskly walked out of Izuna's bedchamber, dutifully turning a deaf ear to his brother's guilt-trips - the brat had all but attached himself to Madara's thigh in his haste to act cute. Madara wasn't going to get tortured by his brother's attempts at making him more sociable.

Brotherly bonding in private? Sure. Outings with strangers whilst naked? Fuck no. Without turning to look at Izuna, Madara drawled with noticeably twitching fingers, "Pond?"

His baby brother promptly released him, a hushed ' _demonic carps are demonic_ ' leaving Izuna's lips as he bolted back into his bedchamber, shoji doors audibly sliding shut in his haste to be out of Madara's immediate vicinity.

Madara idly wondered if he should pick some blueberries along the way for Tobirama the next time his schedule was open to visit their creek.

* * *

"Tobi-nii?"

Tobirama lifted his gaze from the book in his hands to Itama, his youngest brother, who was standing at the entrance of his room-turned-lab.

He had sensed the other Senju standing outside his door long enough for it to be distracting, but due to Tobirama being an awkward teenager who was allergic to _feelings_ in general, he waited for the dual-haired boy to reach out to him first.

"Come in, Itama," he drawled, patiently waiting until his youngest brother had seated himself near him before he continued, "Is there something you need that requires my attention?"

Itama fidgeted, bitting his lower lip in nervousness.

"I... I would like to be a healer," Was said in a whisper, cheeks flushed and radiating intense heat. Tobirama wondered if the boy had caught a fever, the sickness playing with his head.

"That is a women's job," He stated factually, but not unkindly, "Chichi-ue would never approve."

"Then help me convince chichi-ue," Itama latched almost desperately onto Tobirama's wrist, heterochromatic eyes pleading for his help, "Please, Tobi-nii! I, I think my talents lie in being a healer. My chakra reserves are the smallest in our family and I have the necessary control - and if Touka can become a frontliner in our army despite being a girl, I can be a healer even if I'm a boy."

Tobirama fell into a contemplative silence, his mind calculating the odds.

Indeed, if Touka, a woman ( _frightening, powerful, and more masculine than even Hashirama_ ), could raise through their ranks and become an elite warrior, what say Itama ( _soft, kind, and too gentle in nature to hurt others_ )? Tobirama would feel more at ease if his youngest brother was kept out of the clan wars and brutal missions.

Besides, it was true enough that Itama's chakra control was better than even Tobirama's, whose control was almost legendary within their clan despite his young age.

"I am not opposed to the idea of you becoming a healer, Itama. However, it will take more than talent to have chichi-ue's blessing. We have a lot of planning to do..."

Itama beamed, tackled Tobirama into a hug, and giggled almost giddily. The older Senju could only stiffly pat the younger in the back, not knowing how else to react. If this was Hashirama, he would have just thrown his elder brother over his shoulder and be done with it.

But with Kawarama and Itama, he felt uncomfortable to treat them with such _obtuseness._ Little brothers took delicate maneuvering and finesse, he had come to learn over the years, lest he be the one on the end of yet another prank of theirs - Kawarama, especially.

The last time Tobirama had misjudged a situation and got involved, his hair had shined a putrid shade of neon green for a whole week. He was just glad that Madara had not had the time to visit the creek that month.

Once more, Tobirama could not help but lament his awkwardness in human interaction and social cues. He took note to gather books and scrolls on human psychology the next time he leaves the compound for a mission.

"Thank you, nii-san! I knew I could always count on you! I love you, Tobirama-nii."

Tobirama shrugged, cheeks slightly tinged in pink, and looked away. Such gratitude and love directed at him was yet another matter he was unused to.

His father would only nod in acknowledgment whenever Tobirama handed a new jutsu he had created whilst Hashirama and Kawarama took everything he did in stride ( _sometimes the former would even compare him to their father, which made Tobirama look away for entirely different reasons he could not truly figure out_ ).

Only Itama would thank Tobirama and say 'i love you' to him at random times. And it would always make his chest flutter, his blood race to his cheeks, and the need to look at anything but Itama more pronounced.

Maybe this was why he was closest to Itama than any of his other family members. If the war lost him Itama, he knew he would do anything in his power to bring the gentle and kind boy back. He hid a shudder at the thought.

Wanting to direct the conversation away from _feelings_ , he stiffly questioned, "What made you choose to become a healer?"

Much too alike to their eldest brother, Itama suddenly slumped, lips jutting out in a pout, a depressed air hung around him. Tobirama could only sigh at his brother's mood changes. Hopefully, Itama would grow out of it and not follow in Hashirama's footsteps.

"I was ambushed by the Fuma clan in my last mission."

Tobirama immediately had his hands on Itama, physically checking for wounds and the likes, heart thudding wildly as fear washed over his person. When he found none, he cupped his youngest brother's cheeks, brows furrowed worriedly.

"Why was I not informed? It has been a week, Itama. You know that they coat their weapons in poison; precautions must be adhered-"

"I met a brusque but kind healer during the snowstorm," Itama cut in hurriedly, face flushed with embarrassment and something else he did not recognize, "he taught me the art of healing while we waited for the storm to pass. Grumpily. He taught me grumpily. _Very grumpily_."

It made Tobirama frown all the more, his thumbs circling idly over the colored cheeks.

" _He_? A man as a healer? Peculiar... But you should know better than to interact with other unknown shinobi - an ill-tempered one at that."

"He saved my life, Tobi-nii!"

"An ulterior motive."

"I'm a nobody!"

"You are _not_ a nobody, _Senju Itama_. You're the clan head's son... and my little brother."

"Dara-san didn't know that-"

"' _Dara_ '-san?!"

The name made Tobirama stutter, fingers tightening their hold on his brother's face. When Itama made a small noise of distress, he quickly softens his grip and rubs apologetically.

"Do you know Dara-san, nii-san?" Itama titled his head to the side as he circled his small hands around Tobirama's wrists, his eyes eager as they shined brightly. Tobirama shifted uncomfortably in place, not knowing whether to deny such a thing or play ignorance.

But he was curious if this person Itama was talking about was Tobirama's friend. The Uchiha did primarily introduce himself as 'Dara' at the creek, after all.

"I... may know of someone with that name. Can you describe his appearance?"

"Mmm... I think he has long hair, but it was in a messy top-knot so I'm not sure. But it's black in color. His eyes are equally black. He's very pale, too, and it seems to be his natural skin tone rather than sickness. He does have lines underneath his eyes - quite deep; like he lacks sleep or is overly stressed.

"Dara-san's body type is slender and looks about Hashi-nii or your age, nii-san. He doesn't have any clan markings or a crest to indicate where he hailed from. Oh! And he also has a small, violet diamond tattoo on the center of his forehead. His features are all sharp... and pretty."

Tobirama nodded, deep in thought as he tried to form the 'Dara-san' Itama described into a picture in his mind. The image overlapped with a crassly smug Uchiha with messy and wild hair, and if Tobirama were to put his friend's hair into a top-knot, it would be a near perfect match.

The only difference would be the tattoo and him being a healer.

But Tobirama's ignorance of the former could be excused due to Madara's curtain of a bird's nest that covered three-quarters of the Uchiha's face. He was used to looking into Madara's left eye at all times, or rather, he has never once seen the Uchiha heir with both his eyes thanks to the way the other shinobi styled his hair (or perhaps Madara simply didn't brush his hair and allowed for it to grow as wild as it wanted).

As for the latter, all smart shinobi kept their skills to themselves. Tobirama himself didn't inform his family or Madara of his aptitude in fuuinjutsu.

He was brought back to the present when he felt a finger poking his forehead. He slapped the annoying digit and scowled at the overly eager Itama, who was impatiently waiting for his answer. He sighed, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes.

"I may be familiar with the person you've described. Although not a hundred percent certain as my 'Dara' did not present to me his skills in healing."

" _Nii-san_... A simple yes or no, please," Itama whined.

"Yes," This time, he did roll his eyes skyward.

"Really?!" Before Tobirama could respond, Itama whooped and danced around his bedroom-turned-lab before he all but latched onto Tobirama's shoulders, "Please, please, _please_ tell me where I can find Dara-san! I want to learn more iryo-jutsu from him!"

"No."

Itama reeled back, slumped to the ground, and hugged his knees to his chest, an air of depression causing the air to grow heavy around him.

"I know he's pretty and you want to keep him to yourself, but that's unfair, nii-san."

Tobirama spluttered, cheeks staining red as he all but denied such a thing. Sure, Madara's features were not bad looking and Tobirama wouldn't mind staring at the Uchiha for a long duration of time- _NO_! He was _not_ thinking about Madara, his first ever _friend_ , being a potential life partner.

Firstly, Madara was from the Uchiha clan. Secondly, the older shinobi was aggravating. Thirdly, the crass asshole treated him more like a younger brother than a potential lover.

At the last thought, he pushed the dull aching in his chest into the deepest corner of his mind and took a deep breath to compose himself.

" _No_ ; as in his family background is complicated. You'll be taken out before you can reach his clan's compound."

"Then you must meet somewhere else that's safe, right?"

Itama suddenly pushed his face into Tobirama's personal space, their noses brushing. The albino narrowed his red eyes and leaned back as discreetly as possible.

"That's none of your business."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"No."

"What if I protect you from Kawarama's pranks in the future?"

"Tempting, but still a no."

"Pleeeeeeasseeeeee, Tobi-nii...! I'll do anything!"

"I'm leaving."

...

..

.

In the end, during Tobirama's next visit to the creek, it was with a tag along. Itama had promised to never tell anyone of their meeting.

When Madara and Itama officially met, the latter all but tackled the former to the ground, which made Tobirama have a clear view of the violet diamond tattoo on the Uchiha's forehead. He dutifully ignored the ache in his chest when Madara fondly ruffled his youngest brother's hair and laughed when Itama's bubbly chatter became a spluttered mess, cheeks colored red as freshly plucked tomatoes.

He looked away, staring blankly into the waters, not knowing what to make of the mess of swirling emotions he was currently experiencing. He decided not to think too much about it, lest he came up with an answer he disliked.

It was only when Madara brushed gentle fingers against his bicep did he feel the tension in his muscles loosen. The Uchiha smirked, mouthing a challenge at him. Tobirama could only chuckle at the other's childishness, finally joining the dark-haired shinobi in teasing the embarrassed Itama by telling Madara about the youngest's childhood mishaps.

* * *

 **A/N: Hoped you guys enjoyed the** **sneak peek into Tobirama's head! That was added in last minute due to popular demand.**

Judging by some of the reviews, I know that the time skips between chapters get confusing at times. I just want to clarify and explain the reason for it.

This was originally meant to be a one-shot, thus I have already written a complete draft of it. All that is left is to edit and finalize them before uploading ( _although sometimes I do add-on a few mini-stories in between when I get inspired_ ). So basically, what I meant to say is... They're time-skips to reach MadaTobi pairing at an appropriate and legal age ASAP whilst getting to know the now-Madara and how his childhood defines him into the man he would be in the future.

Sometimes the skips are random; weeks, months or even years in between one chapter and the next, mostly because I'm trying to age them at a pace that is meant for quick short stories than long connected ones. The worldbuilding and background info dump got a little out of hand, though, I must admit. As you can see from this chapter... there was more unnecessary worldbuilding despite how I wanted to make it a filler and brotherly bonding experience.

I hope this clears up some things.


	12. Chapter 12

Tobirama did his best to ignore the Uchiha bastard's blatant _eyeballing_ as he performed his katas, a light sheen of sweat plastered on his skin as his muscles flexed and contracted with every movement he made. After another few more minutes, however, the Senju gave an aggravated huff, dropped his form, and swirled towards Madara with furrowed brows.

"What?" He deadpanned.

"'What' _what_?" Was the half-hearted response from the _still_ staring Madara. Tobirama was not impressed.

"For Sage's sake, Madara. What do you want? You've been _gawking_ at me for the past _half an hour_."

"I've not been, as you so eloquently put it, _gawking_ at you, Senju! You're simply being egoistic and self-conscious."

"Please use that organ between your ears and remember that I am a _sensor,"_ Tobirama stressed the last word as he crouched down to grab his canteen, "And any shinobi worth their salt would be able to feel your eyes on them as soon as you've stopped blinking after the five-minute mark in your staring, Uchiha. So, spill. Or I'm leaving. I did not come here to be ogled at."

Madara, although the Uchiha heir would never admit to it if it was pointed out, was openly pouting. Tobirama could feel his heart pounding faster for all the wrong reasons and _damn Madara and his good looks_! And that meant _nothing_. Anybody would have their heart race if a beauty of Madara's standard were to show such an expression!

"I wasn't," Madara petulantly repeated, but when Tobirama pretended to leave, he quickly stood up from his seat on the boulder and crossed his arms, "Okay, _fine_. I admit that I've been staring. There, happy?"

" _Ecstatic_ ," Tobirama deadpanned, "And _why_ have you been staring?"

"It's just that... you're _barefaced,"_ The albino felt like Madara's voice was tinged with something akin to _disturbed_ when he said the last word, causing Tobirama to inwardly gawk in confusion.

Well, of course, his face was bared. He has no reason whatsoever to hide his identity with a mask whilst with Madara. Outwardly, however, he rolled his eyes skyward.

"Your observation astounds me. It is no wonder they call you a genius."

"I meant your _skin_ , idiot Senju! It's unblemished!"

"... Thank you?"

"It wasn't a compliment!"

"Then what is it?"

"A complaint!"

"About what?"

"Your skin!"

"And what's wrong with my skin, Uchiha?!"

"It's flawless!"

"And what's wrong with that?!"

" _Everything_!"

"Make some sense!"

" _I am_...!"

"I assure you there is no semblance of sense whatsoever in your words!"

"But, but... You're _barefaced_!"

"Repeating yourself with the same words would not make my understanding of it better."

"Idiot Senju!"

"Imbecilic Uchiha!"

"Your brother's hair is stupid!"

" _Your_ hair is stupid!"

By now, Madara has long thrown his arms in the air in sheer frustration whilst Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose for the very same reason.

Sometimes, the Uchiha would say random things that made him look insane whilst at other times, the messy-haired teen would speak of words that were full of wisdom. Madara always has a few odd moments, and this, the albino reckons, was definitely one of them.

They traded childish insults until Madara had all but tackled him to the ground when he tried to walk away. Tobirama growled, elbowing the maddening Uchiha to try and dislodge the exasperating fool from his back. After what seems to be hours, but was in fact minutes, they both laid on their back, chest heaving as they stared at the clouds.

"Have you ever thought about getting inked, Tobira?" Madara turned his head to look at the albino, the unexpected question making Tobirama roll to his side with furrowed brows. He contemplated whilst staring into the Uchiha's black eyes.

"No. I see no purpose in making myself more identifiable than I already am."

"Would you consider inking a red line on each cheek and on your chin if I recommend it?"

Tobirama's lips parted, a refusal on the tip of his tongue, but the words halted in their tracks at the expression on the Uchiha's face. Madara's eyes were soft, almost pleading when he asked his question. It was a vulnerability that Tobirama has seen only a handful of times. And at such a look, he simply could not refuse the Uchiha no matter how insane his requests were.

With a sigh, he reluctantly nodded.

His agreement instantly made the Uchiha's lips curl upwards into an absolutely _beautiful_ smile, and it made Tobirama's breath hitch, heart beating a mile a minute. He eagerly burnt this into his memory, as he knew that Madara's genuine smile (not a smirk or a leer) was not one to be given so easily.

He allowed it when Madara reached out to remove his happuri for him, the teen's fingers leaving a trail of heat on his otherwise icy skin.

When the Uchiha happily brought out a kit of professional-looking needles, a variety of colorful inkpots, and disinfectant, all the whilst smiling so radiantly, Tobirama felt that getting a few tattoos was worth it. Tobirama would do anything to see that smile playing on Madara's face.

 _Anything_... That was within reason, of course. He wasn't dumb enough to be taken advantage of.

Or, at least, that was what he repeated in his mind as his head was positioned to rest on Madara's lap, his neck bared and in a vulnerable position as the latter carefully wielded a sharp needle that could puncture his carotid artery at any given moment.

Tobirama's eyelids fluttered when his friend began inking three permanent marks on his alabaster pale skin. It felt like a claim of some sorts, he self-consciously thought, satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh, wow. That was a long pause between updates. I blame the festive atmosphere and the need to get drunk on such an occasion (－‸ლ). I think I lost a couple of days... Ah, the hangovers are a nightmare ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ ༽...

Anyway! What do you guys think of this?

In my headcanon, I felt that Tobirama got the red lines on his cheeks tattooed to represent his dead brothers. The one on his chin to remind him that he has one left. Idk ┐('д')┌. I just feel that it's weird that canon-Tobi would get permanent marks that would make him identifiable if there was no plausible cause for it.


	13. Chapter 13

Just a **WARNING** before we start: snippets of pedophilia. Nobody comes out unharmed and untouched during an era of never-ending wars.

* * *

Seated straight back and in a seiza on his floor cushion next to Tajima, Madara showed no outward signs of his turmoil as the elders placed proposals after proposals atop the low table in front of them. His long mane helped to curtain most of his features, shadowing his expression as he silently observes the proceedings of their clan's monthly meetings.

This month, the discussion was about his potential marriage partners - as he was already of age to start his own family.

In his first life, Madara had made a huge ruckus, all but denying them by spitting profanities (undiluted _terror_ clouding his judgment and he couldn't help but _lash out_ ). And to further nail his point, he went on unapproved solo missions that were borderline _suicidal_.

It worked, _somewhat_ , as the council had dropped the matter in fear that he would perish during one of his reckless endeavor, which would then make the Uchiha lose their strongest warrior against the Senju.

He had, however, not taken their stubborn pride into account until it was far too late to intervene. His little brother's happiness had been stolen by an arranged marriage with one of the elders' granddaughter.

Up to his death, Madara could never forget the betrayal in Izuna's eyes as he sat with his soon-to-be wife and drank the ceremonial sake in Madara's place.

But he was a coward, too engrossed in his own self-pity to own up to his mistakes. And that only made the guilt all the more heavier and unbearable.

This time, however, Madara would be compliant, not wanting anyone to bear the consequences of his tantrums _again_. Madara's feelings held no significance, all that mattered was his little brothers' happiness.

He would wed whoever they wanted him to wed, but as soon as Tajima was dead, Madara would petition for an annulment. And as unlikely as it was for people of this time to agree to a divorce, Madara would prefer to start a family of his own choosing. A loveless marriage was a pointless marriage.

Furthermore, he did not want the poor woman who was unlucky enough to be chosen as Madara's partner to be labeled as the wife of a madman and a tyrant.

After all, at times, sacrifices must be made, and to bring an era of peace much earlier than his first life, Madara had already steeled himself to become the main villain of this story ( _and oh, how easy it was to fall back into old habits_ ).

He had already fore-planned how he would _dictate_ the Uchiha clan as soon as he became its head, and admittingly, it would not paint a pretty picture. The resentment and terror his kin would undoubtedly feel towards him would forever haunt his nights, but if it was at the cost of cutting _years_ of pointless fighting and deaths, he would make them believe that Madara was not a kind man.

Konohagakure no Sato _will_ be built ahead of its time if Madara has anything to say about it - fuck all those warmongers and vengeful ones. Anyone who opposed him would learn how unwise their decision was. And this was when the Forbidden Individual Curse Tag would come into play.

Madara was not Hashirama, and nor was he Naruto. Violence and war were all he knew. And if he wanted to make a point, it would be with his gunbai and cursed seals rather than his words. He would be a leader who _controls_ and _dominates_ his people; a vile _dictator,_ waiting patiently until someone decrowns him forcefully.

Then-Hashirama would weep if he was here and had access to his innermost thoughts, and if Madara had not prepared his heart and mind from the getgo, he would have wept alongside his then-best friend.

"Very well. It has been decided. My son and heir, Madara, will wed Akio-dono's granddaughter, Hikari-san. The ceremony will take place at the end of this week. I expect everything to be ready, prepared, and perfected by then."

"Understood, Tajima-sama."

At Tajima's final say, the five elders bowed their heads in unison, their faces stoic yet their eyes gleeful. Their clan heir was strong and unbeatable despite only being seventeen-years-old, and any child born from him, they rightfully assume, would be a powerhouse in the making.

Madara, on the other hand, bent his head for an entirely different reason, lustreless eyes staring blankly at his lap. There were no outward tells of his inner bitterness or fear, only a stoic detachment in place. They believed he would accept anything they say, as his disposition was no different than usual.

In their eyes, Madara has always been a tool that obeys all orders from his clan head and elders. He would not be breaking that image anytime soon. No, _not yet,_ even if he desperately desires it.

* * *

"Okaerinasai, anija."

Madara didn't turn to face Ryouta, single-mindedly untying his sandals at the entryway. He did, however, try to make his voice as even as possible, not wanting to clue his little brother that he was feeling out of sorts.

"Tadaima kaerimashita, Ryouta. Where are the rest of our brothers?"

"Backyard. Zuna-nii is helping Taku and Yaku improve on their shurikenjutsu. How did the meeting go?"

His fingers trembled for a split second before he stubbornly clenched them into fists, glad that he was already seated since his knees were in a similar state. Taking a deep, calming breath, he made sure to respond within the appropriate time gap.

"It went well."

"Mm, that's good to hear. Our honorable elders seemed to be in a terribly good mood when they left the shrine, so I had assumed the worst. I'm glad I was wrong. Does anija want me to set up a bath?"

"Please."

"Okay."

When Ryouta retreated to prepare a bath, the pitter-patter of feet gradually growing softer as he climbed the stairs, Madara covered his face with his palms and just _breathed_.

He would be alright. Everything would be alright. Just because he would be a husband soon did not mean he was required to _copulate_. He was fine.

( _Revolting, small, calloused covered hands slid across the expanse of his pale skin, leaving goosebumps in their trail as eleven-year-old Madara growled in anger, his head throbbing from the lack of chakra in his system-_ )

Everything would work out in the end. There was no need to panic unnecessarily.

( _The muffled screams he let loose went unheard, the gag preventing him from spewing profanities to cover up the fear that was clawing up his throat. He felt dirty. Why was she doing this to him? He didn't understand. Her touches were repulsive, yet his traitorous body enjoyed her caresses-_ )

He was a powerful shinobi now, not that naive and gullible child - haven't been so for a long, _long_ time.

( _"What a beautiful boy you are," The brunette murmured, fingers pinching at his chest and making him_ arch _with a mortifying sob, "You'll cum for me, won't you? You'll impregnate me, won't you? Such a good, good boy you are-_ ")

"The bath's ready, anija," Ryouta announced from the top of the stairs, his high-pitched voice bringing Madara back to the land of the living.

"I appreciate it, Ryouta." Madara kissed his brother's forehead when he passed by, his mind already pushing all of those unpleasant memories to the back of his mind. It was not a healthy way to cope, but it was the easiest.

When his _engagement_ was announced later that night, only Takumi and Yakumi congratulated him - as they were too young and did not know any better. He patted their heads, a bitter smile hidden behind his mantle's high collar.

Izuna and Ryouta clearly weren't happy with it (they believed in a loveful marriage), but they learned from Madara to keep their lips sealed and their heads down whenever they were in Tajima's presence, as rare as it was for the clan head to dine with them.

Madara could only continue eating as if nothing was wrong, the mantra of _everything would be ok_ still repeating in his head the entire time. Unexpectedly, he pondered what Tobirama would think of this arrangement - and then he almost slapped himself for having such stupid thoughts.

Why would Tobirama even care about the Uchiha clan's politics, anyway? Arranged and political marriages were common for clan heirs in this age.

By the end of that week, Madara stiffly brought a cup of sake to his lips, lifeless eyes gazing at the face of his _wife,_ who had her joyous face painted with thick powders of makeup and red lips that reminded him so much of his best friend's beautiful eyes.

Idly, as Madara tipped his cup and swallowed the sake in one go, he wondered why his chest hurt all of the sudden.

* * *

 **A/N:**

UGHHH! I very much dislike this chapter (ಠ ∩ಠ)! But, unfortunately, it has to be done... I'm sorry, Madara! For now, he has to suffer for my plot-bunnies' worldbuilding.

In my headcanon, I feel that arrange marriages is a common thing in the olden times. And maybe have more than one wife... to up the baby numbers due to the loss that wars bring forth. Not to sound sexist or anything, but that's just how mean and sadistic my plot-bunnies are. It's a time period that leaves a bad taste in my mouth ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽

On the bright side, his... _wife_... is not a permanent thing. MadaTobi is my only OTP (`Д´)9!


	14. Chapter 14

Madara gave a greeting smirk at his ever-scowling Senju from his seat on an outdoors picnic blanket, patiently waiting for the sullen albino to cross over to the Uchiha's side of the creek.

The three, sharp and distinct red lines inked onto the Senju's alabaster complexion caught the sun's rays, contrasting beautifully against pale skin and drawing Madara's piercing eyes to them. A small burst of laughter bubbled up his throat at the memory of how the younger shinobi had acquired them.

It had been odd, seeing Tobirama without his trademark tattoos which made Tobirama _Tobirama_ over the years. Now, he could not even picture the younger shinobi without them. After that memorable event, Madara felt that they had somehow grown even closer.

The Senju, after being acquainted with the devious hormones which made up puberty, had shot up like bamboo sprouts, easily overtaking Madara in height and muscle mass. The now sixteen-year-old impassive bastard had grown into a fine young man with broad shoulders, lithe body, and an _almost_ unbreakable poker face.

It made the smartarse more than a little overbearing - until Madara _literally_ tore him a new hole during a spar. That had taught the cheeky brat to never again tease Madara about his shorter stature. It wasn't his fault that the majority of the Uchiha were late bloomers and that the Senju practically have the blood of _giants_ in them.

Furthermore, the younger shinobi has not only grown in body, but in mind as well. He had eased up considerably, was more confident, and self-assured. No more thinking himself an emotionless 'perfect soldier' for his father's use. Shinobi endure, yes, but they were only human no matter how hard they try to expunge their emotions.

Conceal? Yes. Erase? _No_. Even Madara could not completely remove his emotions, only compartmentalize.

Madara worked extra hard in making sure to beat those stupid ideals out of that pretty little white head of his. He didn't need Tobirama influencing such ideas into Danzo's demented and crooked head, which would then tempt his future student into creating Root; which would one day bring the end of the Uchiha clan.

Every action and decision he made, as of late, felt as if there was an ulterior motive behind of them - his mind always weighing the cost versus benefits, responsibilities versus feelings. And sometimes, those measures made him distrustful over his own accomplishments, but that was just how he was, he supposes.

It has always been easier for Madara to manipulate and strategize for an eventuality and plan for a contingency for his contingencies than to live life with irrational and reckless abandonment.

"You look perkier than usual," Madara stated as soon as the Senju reached his side. The other paused, eyes slightly wide when he looked at Madara's hands. That made him tilt his head in askance, which the Senju blatantly ignored as he made to remove his fur collar.

"Why hello, Uchiha. Good afternoon to you as well. How was your day? Mine was shit. Thank you for asking," Tobirama drawled sarcastically, causing Madara's lips to quirk upwards in mirth.

"Alright. I'll bite. What's got your panties in a twist? If there's a solution, I'll help straighten it out."

"For once in your life, Madara, could you _not_ sound like such a juvenile scoundrel?" The albino scrunched up his nose before rubbing his temples tiredly, "Chichi-ue has fallen ill and the elders are pushing for me to lead the next raid. Anija is too soft - hence they are expecting that _I_ be the one who assumed the mantle of general."

"Isn't that great news?" He patted the spot next to him as an invitation whilst rolling his eyes, "That Butsuma is bedridden, I mean."

"Despite his lack of involvement in our upbringing, I do not wish ill upon him. Stop bringing _your_ daddy issues into _my_ life," Tobirama bit back whilst he unstrapped his armor and settled next to Madara on the red outdoors blanket, their shoulders and knees pressed together due to the close proximity.

The sudden warmth made a shiver run down his spine, causing him to nestle closer to the albino with a satisfying sigh leaving his lips. The weather has been getting colder as of late. And as distracted as he was, it took several long moments for Tobirama's words to register.

When it did, however, Madara all but elbowed his friend in the ribs, a scowl on his features.

"I do not have _daddy issues_!" Madara all but shrieked, beyond offended.

"Spoken by someone who constantly plans patricide in his free time. Why am I not convinced?" The albino sneered, gaze once again flicking distractedly to Madara's hands before resuming eye contact.

"... Bastard," He murmured weakly, not able to deny those accurate accusations, "So? Is he dying?" He asked with zeal.

If Butsuma was on his last breath, he could finally off his own father and send one of his personally trained messenger hawks with a missive, offering a cease-fire between their clans - the first step to building Konohagakure. It would be years early, but he had planned to have it that way, anyway; before any of their brothers' lives could be jeopardized.

His friend, however, understood him well enough to look more exasperated than angered by his impolite question. Although that may be due to them being two peas in a pod. Misunderstandings between them were few and far between.

"You are utterly _shameless_ in your joy, Uchiha. Please refrain from showing how pleased you are at my clan head's dwindling health," He stated drily, but Madara only continued to look eager.

Tobirama sighed, deeming the Uchiha a lost cause, "It's still too early to tell... And while I try not to get side-tracked too often, _you are_ _distracting_ _me,_ Dara. By not wearing your gloves - _Why are you not wearing gloves_?! Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Why do you sound so _scandalized_?! Stop! They're just _gloves,_ Tobira! It's hard to knit with them on, okay?!" Madara suddenly felt self-conscious, wishing he had not left his leather gloves back home. On the other hand, he made a mental note to _always_ wear gloves whenever he plans to meet up with Tobirama.

"... We'll put the topic of you appearing _highly indecent_ without them, for another day, because I am seriously befuddled by what you are actually doing right now. Just _what_ in Sage's name are you _doing_?" He sounded disturbed, an odd expression flickering on his face.

Madara blinked uncomprehendingly.

As he followed Tobirama's gaze, his eyes landed on the two thick senbon needles in his hands and the yarn wrapped around said senbon needles and his left index finger, connected to a ball of pastel blue yarn.

"Use those organs in your sockets, Senju. Isn't it rather obvious? I'm knitting Yakumi a pair of woolen booties for the upcoming winter." _And you a scarf for your birthday three months later._

Oddly enough, his answer only made the Senju more baffled, the confused expression making him look younger. Madara huffed, yet again offended.

Just because Madara only wore pre-owned clothing did not mean he would allow his younger brothers to do the same. What kind of neglectful older sibling did Tobirama think he to be? Who knows what sort of virus they could catch if they used clothing that was once worn by the dead?

Besides, he became extremely proficient at knitting when he had been training Obito. The idjit would constantly tear/burn all of Madara's mantles due to either a jutsu mishap or a training accident; he was, weirdly enough, incompetent in the art of shurikenjutsu and ninjutsu at the start of Madara's tutelage.

Furthermore, after having his home _invaded_ by his legally wedded wife, tension ran high in their household. Madara couldn't bring himself to unwind by knitting back in his bedchambers, seeing that it wasn't solely his anymore ( _he has been sleeping with either the twins or Ryouta as of late_ ). Even his siblings made themselves scarce by having daily outings to escape Hikari-san's presence.

"I can see that, Uchiha," The albino crossed his arms, "But I'm asking _why?"_

"Why what?"

"Why are _you_ \- the _heir_ \- the one who knits their clothing? Do the Uchiha not have servants to do such chores for you? Or a tailor?"

"Aa," Madara deadpanned, annoyed at being asked something so obvious.

It should be evident by their lack of armor and scavenged weapons that the Uchiha were piss-poor. Butsuma had commented off-handedly as such a few years back, much to Tajima's fury and Madara's amusement. His father's pissed off purple-ish face had made his day.

Madara shrugged and went back to knitting.

" _Technically_ no. Tajima is always too busy planning the next raid to build any form of rapport with our clients. Haven't been on any assassination missions as of late - they're my most profitable source of income. It's laughable, but the Uchiha are too poor to have servants. The civilians, however, help out in any way they can; simple chores such as community cooking, cleaning, and laundry. The services of tailors are too expensive for me to afford - and besides, I'd rather knit their clothes myself." That way, he could weave in a few protection seals with no one the wiser.

"I... I did not realize the difficult situation you are in. Madara, I apologize if I have offended you with such questions."

He waved the apology off without looking up from his work, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"You need not worry about offending me, _snowflake_. I know your curiosity all too well," he idly laid his head on Tobirama's shoulder as he continued to lean heavily against the Senju's side, dextrous fingers moving with fierce precision, "Being broke has its upsides. Knitting helps me to unwind.

"Izuna, too, enjoys going out on hunts. He would bring back his game and contribute them to our kin who are widowed or orphaned whilst leaving enough for our family. Ryouta loves experimenting and creating new recipes; especially whenever Izuna catches something... _odd."_

Madara made a complicated face at that, remembering those times when Izuna had brought back exotics animals for dinner.

One fine example was the _tarantula sliders_. Ryouta had managed to trick them into eating those vile things without their knowledge up until the very end. Until now, the memory still brought a shudder of revulsion down his spine.

Tobirama made an amused sound at his visible reaction, pale and slender digits rubbing circles on Madara's thigh in a soothing rhythm. He huffed, playfully headbutting the albino's chin before settling back to continue his knitting.

"Yakumi adores the performing arts. Although his lessons do require finesse that I could only gain whenever I go out on missions and copy them with my Sharingan. I suspect that he'd rather be a civilian than a shinobi, to be honest. I mind not, but Tajima, on the other hand... _Hmph_!

"As for Takumi, he's still searching for his calling, but I reckon he's leaning towards being an artisan whenever he's not training. He enjoys painting and crafting far too much to find a new hobby - says its calming."

"They sound like nice kids," Tobirama says with rare softness.

"They are," A happy smile was playing on his lips when he readily agrees. His younger brothers were godsend. Without them, Madara wouldn't know what else he could have done but train and train _and train;_ honing his already deadly set of skills for nothing but his ambition.

Madara suddenly recalls possessing a container full of blueberry tarts, the ones Ryouta had made just earlier today ( _sneakily_ , as Hikari-san had taken over their kitchen, much to the four brothers' misery. Ryouta's cooking was to die for). He deftly pulls it out and dangles it in front of the Senju's face.

"Blueberry tarts, Senju?" Tobirama had already snatched the container before Madara could finish asking.

"You should've offered sooner, Uchiha," The Senju grouched, already munching happily on the desserts, eyes squinted in pleasure.

What a child.

"Oh, right. I was going to ask but I got side-tracked. What happened to your hand?" Madara, with a distracted air, tucked the curtains he calls his fringe behind an ear and leaned closer to get a better look.

Three of Tobirama's right fingers were in splints and his wrist wrapped, obviously broken. He idly wondered if it was from a sparring accident or a mission gone wrong.

Tobirama gazed at him for a few long moments, obviously debating whether to answer truthfully or not. It made Madara unhappy, put-off that the albino would keep secrets from him (and yes, he knew he was being irrational and hypocritic. He, too, kept many secrets).

Thus he jeered, "What? Does the little baby Senju want this big bad Uchiha to heal his boo-boo for him or not?"

The teen huffed, turning away with lips pursed in displeasure, "Disciplinary measures, apparently."

"... What does that even mean?" He mused out loud, a bad feeling building up in his throat.

"It means shut up and let me eat in peace."

" _Grumpy_. Why hadn't you allowed Tama-chan to heal it?"

"He's currently out on a mission with Kawarama and Touka."

"Hn."

Rolling his eyes upwards, he snatched the stubborn idiot's injured hand and healed it within moments. Soon enough, they fell into a companionable silence, with Tobirama's munching heard once in a while.

Madara went back to his knitting whilst Tobirama simply laid next to him, head in Madara's lap and enjoying the snack. They were both content with sun-bathing in this cooling weather; perfect for people like them who have sensitive skin - who don't tan but _scorch_ in the sun.

Afternoons like these was his favorite. It made Madara forget that he was a tool, a weapon bred for war.

Smiling with a mixture of pride and bitterness at the sudden reminder, his fingers paused as he spoke tentatively, "Perhaps a dance after your snack?"

"Hn," Tobitama grunted, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's.

"Excellent. We don't want you growing fat now, do we?" Madara teased, resulting in a deadly glare from the albino. If looks could kill, Madara would already be dead a thousand times over. Thank Sage Tobirama was not an Uchiha.

With a laugh, he used a finger to playfully poke at one bulging cheek.

It made a pinkish hue appear on the Senju's face - Madara assumes was due to embarrassment - and he patted his friend's snowy white hair in a mocking manner. Tobirama made an adorable whining sound ( _which would be later denied by the albino_ ) whilst burrowing his heated face into Madara's stomach; as if that could hide him from any more of Madara's teasing.

What a cute brat, Madara inwardly cooed, his fingers not once stopping in their activity of caressing those soft, white locks.

* * *

 **A/N:**

As requested from one loyal reader; I've made sure that this chapter is super fluffy to counteract the previous horrid one! Hopefully, you guys enjoyed this bit of light-hearted fluff ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ! Please tell me your thoughts!


	15. Chapter 15

Hashirama hummed softly under his breath as he strolled through the streets of Sora-ku.

So, why was Hashirama _here_?

Well, word has it that there have been sightings of the Uchiha clan in this seemingly abandoned city, and while usually, Tobes would be the one who takes on these types of missions, Takeshi-san, his father's right-hand, had gotten word that Uchiha Madara had been spotted at this exact location not a day ago.

And as Hashirama was the only one who could openly fight against the Uchiha heir without losing his life, he and Kawarama had been selected for this intel gathering mission. As for why Kawa was paired with him, it was due to his little brother's proficiency in disguises.

While Kawa hid at the outskirts of the city, ready to provide back-up if required, Hashirama strode confidently around with his hair dyed black and facial structure reconstructed with makeup and clay to look more like an Uchiha. After a few days of spying on and chatting with the residents here, Hashirama figured out that Sora-ku was basically a den filled with black marketeers.

They sold their wares to anybody without caring about affiliation, clan, and status. It was no wonder the Uchiha would buy and store their munitions here.

Although he knew that the Uchiha heir was spotted here yesterday, it was still somewhat of a surprise when he stumbled across Uchiha Madara paying for one of them illegal rare goods. The Uchiha heir looked unfazed at being caught by a 'clan member', only gazing at Hashirama's disguised form for a split second before returning to his transaction.

Before Hashirama could bolt, however, the Uchiha gestured for him to stay put. As much of a loud mouth Hashirama was, he was first and foremost a shinobi, and as a shinobi, he knew how covert missions went. So not wanting to clue Uchiha Madara that he was an infiltrator, he obediently accepted the order.

As he waited for the Uchiha to complete his transaction, he decided to scrutinize the other shinobi. Whenever they met in combat, Hashirama didn't have the leisure time required to study the Uchiha despite their close proximity. That was how challenging ( _dangerous_ ) Uchiha Madara was in a fight.

Uchiha, as per usual, was wearing an indigo mantle with sleeves that flow past his fingertips, standard shinobi pants and sandals, and if Hashirama could see the man's hands, probably a pair of leather gloves as well. If Hashirama did not know any better, he would think the Uchiha skin-shy.

But, of course, he knew better.

He had seen the man run around the battlefield with holes and cuts in his clothes as they fought, looking pretty much like a war god with flames and explosion whipping his long hair in the wind. Hashirama has never, however, once seen the right side of the Uchiha's face thanks to the sheer volume of his hair, but he knew that Uchiha was quite handsome just from what he _could_ see.

Although, in Hashirama's humble opinion, he still looked much like a porcupine with his hair spiking everywhere like that.

"Name?" Uchiha Madara asked with disinterest after the seller had left them, turning fully to face Hashirama. Sweating at the unexpected inquiry, he blurted out the first name he could think of.

"Hashi," And oh, how he could picture Tobes's pinched expression right now, followed by the tirade about the benefits of pre-planning, "My name is Hashi, Madara-sama."

The Uchiha heir only _hn_ -ed, obsidian eyes narrowed - and for a second there, Hashirama was concern that he had been exposed, but Uchiha only turned on his heels, throwing a curt, "Walk with me," over his shoulder. Hashirama scrambled to follow.

Quite unexpectedly, Uchiha led them to an eatery. The Uchiha then chose a table that allowed them to have a full view of the restaurant, where they could see the comings and goings of the customers, as well as to have easy access to one of the exits if called for it.

This was a seat he knew Tobes would appreciate.

When a waitress came bounding over, Hashirama panicked for a moment, not knowing if the Uchiha clan came here frequently or if this was the first time. He prays that it would be the latter, since if it was the former, he would be expected to know the menu.

When the waitress bowed low to them, however, a respectful 'Uchiha-sama' leaving her lips, Hashirama knew that he was screwed. Before he could make a fool of himself, the Uchiha heir thankfully ordered for them. Hashirama didn't exactly pay much attention to what they were getting, more concern with keeping his cover.

How do the Uchiha clan members act when they were with their clan's heir in a private setting, anyway? Would they joke around like the Senjus? Or would they remain stiff and formal?

Oh, darn. Takeshi-san should've picked Tobes for this mission. Hashirama was not the best choice for missions that require him to act like someone else.

"What is it?"

Hashirama couldn't withhold a flinch when the other shinobi questioned him in complete monotone. Having just noticed that he had been blatantly _staring_ at Uchiha for far too long, he threw a nervous glance at the porcupine- _ahem_ , Uchiha before looking away.

Taking a deep, calming breath to try and relax as much as possible, he responded with as much stoicism as he could muster ( _which was not a lot_ ).

"Aa, nothing. I was just wondering why Madara-sama is here in Sora-ku," Better to try and get as much information as possible before he got found out, right? Pulling the wool over Uchiha's eyes seemed virtually impossible, but he would do his best.

"Madara," The Uchiha suddenly stated, "Just Madara. _You_ do not need to add -sama behind my name, Hashi."

Blinking at the remark, Hashirama abruptly beamed. The Uchiha heir must have a good relationship with his clanmates; to allow them to call him by just his name. If any of the Senju were to do that _(not that Hashirama minded, actually_ ), his father would have their head.

"Okay, Madara!"

He didn't know if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, but he swore that the Uchiha had softened considerably at being called informally. Before he could think more on that, their food arrived. Hashirama was instantly distracted, his drool accumulating in his mouth at the sight of a bowl of mushroom mixed soup.

It has been a while since he had eaten his favorite meal.

Within moments, he had finished the bowl, satisfaction curling in his stomach. Before he could be disappointed that _that_ was all, a leathered hand pushed another bowl of mushroom mixed soup in front of him. He peered at Uchi- _Madara_ , unsure if he should eat it or return it to remain polite.

"Eat, Hashi. More will come soon."

Not one to usually hesitate when it came to food, Hashirama grinned gratefully and proceeded to eat with gusto. His appetite was gigantic, and a bowl would simply not fill him. It was only when he reached his fifth bowl did he notice that Madara has not once removed his gaze on him as he continues to sip his tea, obsidian eye crinkled in what he recognizes as _fondness_.

Hashirama was a master in emotions, so he wouldn't have mistaken that look. But they have just met, so why would Madara give him such a look? Why would Madara feel a fondness for 'Hashi'?

"Madara?" He blinked, tilting his head slightly to the side to try and figure the mysterious Uchiha out.

"Hm?"

His lips parted, ready to ask what was on his mind, before abruptly remembering that he was on a mission. He snapped his mouth shut, awkwardly flailing as he tried to think of something to say. When a minute passed by in silence, it was Madara who spoke.

"Have you been well?"

"Eh?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Madara chuckled. It was a nice sound. The man should laugh more often.

In his daze, he didn't realize he had spoken such words out loud. The Uchiha's pale skin flushed pink as he looked away, murmuring something about 'filters and bumbling idiots'. That snapped Hashirama out of his stupor, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he scratched the back of his head.

"You remind me of Tob- one of my little brothers," Was not what he had intended to say, but somehow, Madara made him relax his guard enough to talk about his family.

"Do I now?" The Uchiha responded, a playful glint sparkling in his visible eye, "Well, you remind me much of my baby brothers. They're twins."

"Oh?" He leaned forward on his elbows, interested in getting to know the man's family. Not because Hashirama wanted to use his family against him, but because he wanted to know Uchiha Madara more outside of combat. The best way to know someone was to have a conversation about their loved ones.

"And they're seven years old."

That made Hashirama sputter, squawking in mock offense when he realized that he was being called a man-child. Truly, Madara was almost cut from the same cloth as Tobes!

"I'm not a kid, Madara~!" He whined.

"Are you sure? You're sounding like one."

"So cruel~! You're just like Tobes, always making fun of me," He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, "I shouldn't _ever_ let you both meet. It'll be the end of me then."

"I wish you the best of luck in that," Somehow, he felt that there was an inside joke there, but he just couldn't figure it out.

They continued to converse for _hours_ , and by the end of the day, Hashirama felt that he could call Madara his friend. They've talked about their families, the activities they do when out of battle ( _nobody_ would ever believe him if he told them that _Uchiha Madara_ knits in his free time), their likes and dislikes, and their dreams of peace.

It was a shocking and pleasant surprise to hear that Madara was simply waiting for an opportunity to achieve his dream. Hashirama wished he could just tell Madara about how he would be the Senju head soon (his father was growing weaker by the day) and that he would be thrilled to have an alliance with the Uchiha.

Unfortunately, he knew that now was not the right time. As they stood side by side at the edge of Sora-ku, saying their goodbyes, Hashirama finally couldn't help it. He gathered the flailing Uchiha into a bear-hug, fighting to keep the tears from leaking out of his eyes.

"It's not as if we won't see each other again, Hashi," Madara groaned breathlessly as he awkwardly patted the brunet's back. That only made him squeeze harder, causing the Uchiha to grunt about the lack of oxygen. After all, he couldn't actually tell Madara that he wasn't an Uchiha and that after he completes his mission, they would not see each other back at the man's compound.

"I'll see you around, Madara," Hashirama finally let go, grinning at the shorter man with tears in his eyes.

"Of course you will," The Uchiha grumbled, rolling his eyes upwards.

Again, his 'fondly exasperated' behavior reminded him sorely of Tobes. It only made his grin stretch wider. One day, he would officially introduce his little brothers to this man - Uchiha Madara was gentle and kind outside of combat, and he wishes for others to see that as well.

As he swirled on his heels, knowing that Madara would not attack 'Hashi' even if he turned his back on him, he gathered chakra into his legs and prepared to leap onto the trees. Before he could, however, Madara spoke words that made him trip over himself.

"Your physical disguise might be flawless, Senju _Hashi_ rama, but you should work more on scrambling your chakra signature. Tobirama, I reckon, could help you with that."

Just as he turned to face Madara, his mouth parted in the shape of an O, he saw the Uchiha's silhouette disappear between the houses, having retreated back into Sora-ku. He debated with himself if he should chase after the Uchiha, but after a few moments of pondering, though better of it.

From what he knew, Uchiha Madara was a sensor, not as amazing as his little brother Tobes, of course, but still skilled. So even if Hashirama gave chase, the Uchiha would not be found if he did not wish for it. With a sigh, he headed towards Kawa and his campsite, a small smile refusing to leave his lips.

Hashirama can't wait until he and Madara become heads of their respective clans. The future has never seem this promising before.

* * *

 **A/N: Happy New Year, guys! It's 2019** **(ㆆᴗㆆ)... Is the world ending yet? No? Bummer.**

Everyone seems to be curious about what Hashirama's up to as of late and how he is, so I added this bit into the fic as... _requested_ …_φ(･ω･` ). Please tell me your thoughts~!


	16. Chapter 16

Madara blinked, before bending his neck marginally to look downwards at the two touches of warmth that had crashed and was now latched onto his thighs, bunching the fabric in their small fists. The two small children, only seven this year, grinned at him mischievously, their dimples making them appear twice as adorable. The corner of his eyes crinkled with fondness as he smiled gently at his two baby brothers.

"Why hello there, sweetie, sweetheart," He greeted Takumi and Yakumi respectively, keeping his tone soft and tender, "What are you both doing out here all on your lonesomes?"

"Looking at the pretty birdies!" The twins chirped in unison.

"Hm? Are my two darling angels taking interest in falconry?"

"Un!" Yakumi and Takumi cutely bobbed their head, hands behind their backs and feet shuffling with too much contained energy, "Will Ani-ue teach us how to care for the pretty birdies?"

"Of course," Madara crouched to their height and brought the eyas that was sitting obediently on his gloved fingers in front of two pairs of wide, interested eyes, "This is Toboe. Would the two of you like to pet him? You'll have to be _really_ gentle, though - he's still a baby."

"Younger than us?" Takumi asked.

"Younger than even you, sweetie," Madara nodded.

"He's so pretty," Yakumi cooed, a pudgy finger clumsily but gently stroking the bird of prey's breast.

"And soft!" Takumi chimed not a second later.

"Indeed. He's a _very_ special red-tail hawk. Do you know what albinism is, sweetie, sweetheart?"

Takumi and Yakumi both shook their heads, eyes full of curiosity and the desire to learn.

Madara chuckled, patting his baby brothers' soft, silky strands whilst simultaneously keeping an eye on his beloved hawk. The eyas was still young, and as Madara was still in the midst of training it, it was unused to other humans. Therefore, there still existed a slim chance of them being pecked at. Especially by _this_ particular one.

"An albino is someone who lacks pigment - _color_ \- in their skin, hair, and eyes. Toboe lacks coloring in all of his feathers except for this part of his tail here. See?" Madara rotates his wrist to display a small section of the bird's tailfeathers.

"Uwaa! It's red! Like the Sharingan!" Yakumi squeaked in excitement, jumping up and down with his hands clasped on his chest.

"The Sharingan, hm? Perhaps, sweetheart, perhaps," The elder Uchiha hid a secretive smile behind his mantle's high collar, " _His_ eyes do appear to be a similar shade," Was mumbled out almost inaudibly.

"Toboe's eyes don't look red, ani-ue," Takumi pointed out innocently, causing Madara to flush at having his musings be heard.

"Ah, yes. You're right, sweetie. How silly of me. Do you want to try holding him?"

"Ani-ue will let Takumi hold him?!"

"What about Yakumi?!"

"Absolutely. Wait for me here. Onii-san has to get smaller gloves for both of you to wear."

Madara's _slip of the tongue_ was all but forgotten at the prospect of holding a bird of prey. Thank the Sage for children and their short attention span.

When he came back with a pair of kiddie gloves, he helped Yakumi and Takumi both equip them properly before whistling sharply twice. Toboe and his nestmate, Touryou, swooped down and landed with practiced ease on Yakumi and Takumi's fingers respectively, causing the children to let out exclamations of delight and awe.

Madara smirked in pride whilst giving the two eyasses treats for obeying his command.

Touryou chirped, sharp beak playfully nipping at Madara's gloved fingers in a show of affection. Takumi looked shocked and scared at first, but at Madara's serene expression, gave into curiosity and fearlessly ( _stupidly_ ) placed a digit in front of the hawk's beak, his twin recklessly doing the same.

Whilst Touryou obediently and cheerfully nipped with playfulness, Toboe's eyes were frosty, similar to its namesake, but under Madara's dominative and penetrative gaze, it nipped Yakumi's finger with as much gentleness as a bird of prey could muster. Their actions made Yakumi and Takumi both giggle, their grin stretching from ear to ear.

"I want my own birdie too, ani-ue!" Yakumi childishly demanded, pleading puppy dog eyes aimed at Madara's direction.

"Me too, ani-ue!" Takumi asserted not a second later, his lower lip jutting out into a cutesy pout.

"Anything you want, sweetheart, sweetie," Madara folded to their peremptory request like wet toilet paper. If any of his enemies could see him now, they would undoubtedly be putting their hands together and forming the seal required to dispel illusions, "Which type of hawks are you interested in?"

It was rather obvious that they were both manipulating him to make him agree with their demands by acting cute, but he cared not about the not-so-discreet attempt.

In fact, he even felt pride in their trickster ways. Whenever they turn their cutesy act on him, he would always melt into a puddle of goo. Perhaps there was a pit in his brain somewhere when it came down to his two adorable baby brothers.

"We don't know," The two younger Uchiha shrugged.

"Well, no worries. We can take a look at all my hawks and see which one you would like, okay, my dears?"

"I want a _baby_ birdie!"

"I want a baby birdie too!"

"Alright."

"Ani-ue is the best!" They trilled with wide, innocent eyes.

"If Yakumi and Takumi say so, then I must be."

Madara smiled in a dopey manner and discreetly puffed out his chest at the praise, similar to the birds he usually trains. Touryou seemed confused but followed Madara in puffing its chest out as well. Toboe, on the other hand, would've rolled its eyes if it was able to; its owner was such an amenable _brocon_.

* * *

The three Uchiha brothers were relaxing on the grassy ground. Madara was content with watching his many raptors zooming across the sky with Takumi cuddled atop his abdomen, the child's own egg cupped delicately in small hands, and Yakumi snuggled to his right.

"Hurry up and be born, ok?" Yakumi whispered encouragingly as he bunched some of Madara's long, wild hair around _his_ egg. Madara only huffed out a breathy laugh, not minding that his younger brother was using his mane as a makeshift birdnest. It already looked like one, anyway.

"Remember what I told the both of you?"

"Un!" They responded enthusiastically, repeating what he told them not too long ago, "Keep them warm inside their nest and be _very gentle_ whenever touching and/or petting them."

"Good boys," Madara murmured, brushing his lips against Yakumi and Takumi's temples in a gesture of affection.

"You're spoiling our baby brothers rotten, aniki."

The twins flinched at Izuna's sudden arrival, whilst Madara only gave his first little brother a _look,_ having long sensed Izuna's chakra signature approach them.

"Uwaa, the meanie is here! Ani-ue, defend us from the baddie!" Takumi's lips wobbled into a rather convincing teary expression, but Izuna only raised a condescending brow and crossed his arms, unimpressed by the boy's theatrics.

"Don't worry, Taku, remember our _secret_ _weapon_?!" Out of nowhere and much to Madara's startled amusement, Yakumi pulled out a pouch of salt and began flinging handfuls of the seasoning at the sputtering Izuna, "Evil spirit begone!"

" _What the actual fuck_?! You actually dare to throw _salt_ at me?! I'll make the both of you become evil spirits, you _spoilt_ _beasts_!"

Knowing that Izuna's relationship with the twins was akin to a bully and its victims ( _the twins being the bullies and Izuna the poor victim_ ), Madara swiftly kept the eggs inside his sleeves for safekeeping, unsealed a plate of steamed corns, and settled into a comfortable position to enjoy the show.

"We must retreat, Taku, for the evil spirit is too evil to be purified!" Yakumi threw the whole pouch at Izuna as a form of distraction whilst yelling out to retreat, a 'serious' expression on his cherubic features as he pulled Takumi into a mad dash towards the house.

The 'attack' only manages to make Izuna wheeze out a series of coughs for a second or two before he swipes a sleeve ( _rather dramatically in Madara's opinion_ ) across the air in a slashing gesture to disperse the cloud of salt. Scowling at the twins' back as they fled, Izuna reaches into his left sleeve and flung out four soft beads at them in one go.

The beads made the twins' faces be acquainted with the ground when they accurately hit the back of their knees. Whilst they simultaneously groaned in despair at their foiled attempt of escaping, Izuna appeared in front of them with crossed arms, smiling smugly.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I am _so_ gonna teach you two limp noodles a lesson for the shit you just pulled on me."

The twins squealed when they were lifted by the collars of their mantles and spun in wide circles. It might look rough to bystanders, but Madara's keen eyes picked that Izuna's hold and movements were gentle, more to get their adrenaline pumping than to hurt them.

"Kyaaa~! Save us from Izu-oni, ani-ue!" They giggled, kicking their short legs out to try and get Izuna in the chin. That only resulted in them being flung high up into the air, making them screech in joy when they were caught and juggled by their second oldest brother.

Madara let out a huff of laughter as his three little brothers continued to play. He sat up with crossed legs, not minding that Toboe's and Touryou's talons were digging into his shoulders when they perched on him not a second later. Once in a while, he would feed the two eyasses whenever they eyed the corn in his hands long enough for Madara to feel fond exasperation.

"How energetic."

He turned to Ryouta, who has just settled himself to Madara's right and snuggled into his side almost immediately. He brought a hand to rest on his little brother's head, ruffling the younger's hair and smiling when Ryouta did nothing but beam up at him.

"Why don't you join them, Ryouta?"

"I'd rather not be manhandled by the brute," Ryouta gave a pointed look at Izuna, who was currently bench pressing their baby brothers without any visible effort on his part, "And I prefer anija's company over the little demons any day."

"I don't understand why you and Izuna would always call them such names," Madara lamented. Ryouta gave Madara a _look_ so dry he was tempted to offer his brother eye drops. _That_ was probably learned through observing Madara give them to Izuna one too many times.

"Because they're rightful little demons, anija. Don't be tricked by their cutesy act - they're only nice when you're around."

"They're angels."

"They've pulled wool over your eyes. I'm afraid you're beyond saving, anija. You have my condolences."

Madara made a half-hearted sound of protest whilst deciding to continue his ignorant act. He, of course, _knew_ that the twins were rightful menaces to Izuna and Ryouta whenever Madara faded into the background. What sort of older brother would he be if he did not amuse himself with his little brothers' suffering?

It was only fair after he had changed their smelly diapers and had his hair (and fingers) munched on when they were still babies. The only unfortunate matter was that there were no convenient cameras in this time period and he could not take evidence of their foolish younger selves as blackmail material for the future.

Toboe and Touryou suddenly took off into the skies, some of their feathers landing in Madara's hair.

"Please pardon my intrusion, Madara-sama, Ryouta-sama."

Madara's expression had long returned to its passive state when he sensed her approach. Ryouta, on the other hand, couldn't hide how his muscles had tensed when Hikari-san spoke from next to them, probably startled as he was too distracted by their conversation.

He didn't blame his little brother for his inattentiveness, seeing that the younger had felt safe enough with Madara close by to drop his guard - and that civilian's chakra signatures were hard to detect by a shinobi who was not trained in sensing.

But he still took note to double Ryouta's awareness exercises from now on.

"Hikari-san," He greeted politely but monotonously, discreetly pushing Ryouta aside so that he was able to stand next to his wife, blocking his brother from her sight. He disliked having someone unfamiliar so close to his precious people despite her lack of kunoichi training, "What brings you here?"

"I've come to inform Madara-sama and his brothers that lunch has been prepared," Her head was bowed slightly in a show of respect whilst her hands were intertwined in front of her.

"We will be there shortly," Madara answered stiffly, more of a dismissal than a response.

"Understood. I know to not question Madara-sama unnecessarily as he is a busy man, but to prepare myself, may I know if Madara-sama will be returning to our bedroom tonight?"

Madara was instantly uncomfortable with such a question being thrown at him in front of his little brother. After their wedding day, which was a _year_ ago, Madara had not once entered his bedchamber, always making excuses about preparing for a mission even though he would sleep in the twins' or Ryouta's room afterwards.

He knew it was cowardly of him to treat her as such ( _she was an innocent party_ ), but Madara couldn't help it. Cold sweat would cover him from head to toe whenever he pictures them in a futon together, paranoia causing him to fle- _make a tactical retreat._

His brothers might not mind him intruding upon them ( _in fact, Izuna and Ryouta actually_ encouraged _Madara to retreat to their rooms after dinner each night_ ), but he knows that Tajima has been asking Hikari-san whether she was pregnant yet with his child. And the pressure of their clan head was what made her question him 'subtly' whenever she sees him.

He did not blame her. Tajima was intimidating to many as he was a violent man prone to striking first, talk _never_.

Under his billowing sleeves and out of sight from prying eyes, Madara balled his gloved fists. It was not that Madara was purposefully being _difficult_ , he was just... _uneasy_... at the prospect of being intimately touched.

After having been violated by a bloodline thief back when he was _truly_ an eleven-year-old child, he has never once engaged someone in an act of coitus. He has never known the taste of carnal pleasure up till the day he exhaled his last breath next to then-Hashirama. Even after having returned to his second childhood, this current body of his has yet to be touched, and he intended to keep it that way till his fourth and final death.

He wore _gloves_ for a reason, for fuck's sake. It was not a fashion statement as he was not a vain man.

Hence, to be expected to _impregnate_ someone after such a traumatizing event was... _He just couldn't do it_ no matter how much he forces himself to compartmentalize and think this as one of his long-term infiltration-slash-honeypot missions.

"My apologies for stealing Madara-ani again for tonight, Hikari-san. Anija has promised to help me improve in my calligraphy after dinner."

Ryouta, the ever-perceptive teen that he was, inserted himself into the conversation before Madara's silence got too long. When Hikari-san looked as if she wanted to say something else, Izuna arrived in a timely manner with the twins in tow to loudly exclaim that the brats were hungry and that they should go have lunch _now_.

Hikari-san's lips pursed for a split second in displeasure, but she bowed and retreated back into the house obediently - just like how she was taught to obey the orders of her husband and his immediate family members.

As soon as she was out of sight, Ryouta pulled him into a hug, comforting words being whispered soothingly into his ears. Ryouta's fingers were combing through his long hair; gentle, calming, and _purely platonic_ motions that prevented him from lashing out at their intimate proximity.

He only just realized that he was trembling bodily when he brought his arms up to return the favor, so he exhaled shakily and forced himself to relax into his younger brother's embrace.

"Aniki, do you... Do you want me to sanction a month-long mission for you?" Izuna murmured softly, calloused covered hands rubbing soothing circles on Madara's back.

"Please," He whispered, burrowing his face deeper into Ryouta's shoulder to hide his shame.

"Alright. I'll bring the twins inside and distract Hikari-san. Just... Take as much time as you need, aniki. Don't force yourself, ok? We understand."

Madara didn't know why he felt like such a failure ( _as a man and as a big brother_ ) when Izuna mentions that they _understood_ why he reacted so negatively to something as simple as sex. The full moon tonight, he assumes, would probably be twice as red than any other lunation.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Grrrrr_...! (╬ಠ益ಠ) I was simply finalizing this totally _brotherly fluff_ chapter... So why did my plot-bunnies have to take control of my fingers and write that last portion?! It was wholly unnecessary, dammit! Why are they always making Madara suffer?! ლಠ益ಠ)ლ

Anyway, Madara calls Takumi and Yakumi sweetie and sweetheart respectively (○ﾟε^○).

The reason why the twins are pretty childish and innocent (similar to civilians) is due to Madara shielding them from the more violent side of being a shinobi ( _that overprotective brocon)_. The twins live a more sheltered lifestyle since they have no _official_ roles other than being 'back-ups' of the heir, as insensitive as that sounds (ಥ﹏ಥ).

Touryou = Pillar ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) *wink wink*


	17. Chapter 17

Without having to look up from his work, Tobirama already knew that it was Hashirama who had boisterously slammed open the shoji door leading into his office. After all, the taller Senju was always loud in announcing his presence. Furthermore, the Senju heir's massive chakra wasn't at all subtle for a sensor of Tobirama's calibre.

"Tobirama~ Let's go swimming together!" Hashirama glomped the albino from behind, and even without turning to face the other, Tobirama could tell from just Hashirama's tone alone that the latter was grinning expectantly.

Tobirama's expression was stone cold as he took a deep breath in... and out. In... and out... Then he bluntly ignored the unwelcome visitor and continued to calculate his clan's total income earned from missions.

He had only recently implemented a scheme and was now eager to see if it had brought out the expected results. Whether it had increased their revenue with minimal casualties or was it a total failure. His goal, after all, was to minimalize the mortality rate by ranking a shinobi's skill set and matching it to a corresponding mission.

There was also the need to have a decrease in expenditure due to the ongoing shinobi clan wars -

"Tobirama~" (っ*´∀｀*)っ

With practiced ease, he turned a blind eye to his brother (who was still hugging him like a koala) and leaned closer to the papers with squinted eyes.

His eyesight was becoming worst from all the paperwork he was doing - and as an albino, his eyes were already shite, to begin with. It seems that he would need to ask Madara to correct his eyesight _again_. That was not something he was looking forward to.

"Don't ignore me, Tobi~!" (T⌓T)

Idly, Tobirama wondered how Madara was doing.

Madara seemed restless when he saw the older shinobi during a skirmish a few days back. It was unlike the Uchiha heir to be so distracted while fighting against Hashirama, and within the safety of his head, Tobirama felt worried for him. He knew how stubborn Madara was about his own health and safety - he would push and push _and push_ until his body could take the abuse no longer and shut itself down.

It had happened before; back-to-back missions for _months_ without rest until one day, Madara just collapsed (and fell into a deep coma that lasted for a chilling three weeks) while they were both having their monthly sparring sessions at the creek.

Tobirama had freaked the fuck out, his mind was completely empty from the sheer panic he felt. Without thought, he (stupidly) rushed to sneak the Uchiha into the Senju compound just because he trusted no other medic-nin but Itama to tell him what was wrong with his friend.

Madara had, after all, thoroughly trained Itama into becoming one of the best (if not _the_ best) medic-nin in Hi no Kuni. And Tobirama was damn proud of his baby brother's achievement and reputation. But, anyway, he hadn't been thinking straight back then about the consequences it would bring when he lugged an unconscious Uchiha heir into his home.

Thankfully, the majority of the Senju militia (the elites of their clan) were off fighting against the Hyuuga that day. If not, Tobirama and Itama would have undoubtedly been branded traitors that day if they had been found -

" _Tobi_ ~" (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

As soon as he _registers_ his brother calling him by that wretched childhood nickname of his, Tobirama threw the brush in his hand at Hashirama, feeling intense satisfaction when the neanderthal squawked in protest when the item struck him in between the eyes.

Straddling his chair, he faced his obnoxious older brother, " _What_?" he bit out without a change of expression.

"Let's go swimming together, Tobi. I'm bored," Hashirama whined, arms flailing in the air as he threw a _massive_ tantrum that would make even toddlers jealous on the floor.

"Why should I care if you're bored, anija? And don't call me that," Tobirama was never fond of diminutives - especially when used on his name.

"But Tobi is Tobi," Was the petulant response to his reprimand.

"No, anija. Just... _No_."

Pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache, Tobirama exhaled while counting backwards from ten. _Where_ were Itama and Kawarama when he needed them the most? He did not wish to be in Hashirama's vicinity when the older Senju was bored enough to _whine_.

"What about _Tobira_ then -"

Before Hashirama could even finish that sentence, Tobirama's utterly _murderous_ glare cut him off. Brother or not, there was only _one_ person he would allow to call him that. And Hashirama was not _him_.

"Oo _ookay_. I can see that _that_ is forbidden... You don't have to glare at me like that, Tobirama. I just want to spend time with you, my precious little brother..." (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Tobirama forcefully rolled his shoulders to lessen the tension when Hashirama drooped, a depressing cloud appearing above his head. He rubbed a palm against his face to delay a response. It had been ill-conceived of him to lash out just because of that.

Especially when anija actually appeared hurt by his unconscious reaction to being called Tobira, giving him _that_ look; the one that conveyed his loneliness at Tobirama's emotional unavailability.

It made Tobirama feel guilty enough for him to break eye contact with the Senju heir. He fidgeted (internally, of course) for a bit before nodding once at the idea that was floating at the forefront of his mind. He knew exactly what to do to extinguish that wounded expression from anija's face.

 _Not_ swimming, obviously. He was not in the mood to swim in this freezing weather.

"Alright, anija," Tobirama grunted, purposely not looking at his brother, "I'd rather not waste time doing something unproductive, so we will be dancing rather than swimming."

After stiffly saying his bit ( _had his tone been too harsh? Should he have worded it in another manner? Why was it so difficult for him to express himself in front of others?_ ), Tobirama hopped out of his seat, moved towards his weapon rack, and picked his standard training katana.

Although he was reluctant to leave his work half-done, he was looking forward to trading blows with anija as it has been a while since they had last sparred. Perhaps a few hours of exercise would make Hashirama less energetic while also accomplishing their 'spending time together' quota for this week.

When he only saw Hashirama staring at him with wide, startled, brown eyes, he fully faced his brother with a condescending look, clearly expressing he was not impressed by the eyeballing. What was up with other people and _gawking_ at him?

If it was Hashirama _this_ _time_ who wants to ink him, he would refuse in a heartbeat.

Anija's handwriting and drawings were _atrocious_. And speaking of inks; should he request for Madara to draw him a design? He was thinking of a red tribal dragon - one that would twine around his body in a manner similar to that of a snake, down to his right ankle.

Knowing that this was not the time nor place to think about those deft, slender fingers that trailed deliciously across his heated skin as they drew permanent marks on his body, he shook his head and scowled at his brother.

"Well? Why are you not leaving to prepare yourself? I may not be your equal in strength and endurance, anija, but I will take offense if you underestimate me. You should know better than that by now."

"W-what?" Hashirama looked cluelessly at him, index fingers poking together in a gesture of nervousness.

"Go to your room-" Tobirama spoke slowly as if he were talking to a toddler, "and arm yourself for a dance. I will meet you at our training yard in ten minutes. Capisce?"

"Uhm... Yes?"

When Tobirama hears the unsure tilt of Hashirama's tone, he could only let loose a long-suffering sigh. _This_ _thing_ would become the Senju head after chichi-ue succumbs to his illness.

Somehow, Tobirama has a feeling that in the future, he would be doing _many_ unethical things to protect his dreamer of an older brother from being eaten alive by the cruel mistress called politics ( _and Tobirama would gladly do so to spare Hashirama's hands from dirtying. He has been trained from young to undertake all the unpleasant tasks, after all. The clan heir/soon-to-be head should not have to handle such despicable affairs_ ).

"Was that a statement or a question?"

"A statement, of course! Hahahaha!"

Hashirama's mood flipped from nervous to joyous within a split second before he patted Tobirama with enough strength to physically move him from one tatami mat to another. The albino could only watch ( _while holding his stinging back_ ) as the older Senju skipped out of his office, looking as if he had just won the lottery.

And as Tobirama intimately knows, Hashirama was a sucker when he gambles.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the recent memory of Hashirama drunkenly gambling away some of Tobirama's used fundoshi ( _why anyone would ever desire them continues to remain a mystery to the albino_ ), he, with practiced movements, shrugged out of his kinagashi to don his black, standard shinobi pants and mesh armor, followed by a short sleeve blue kimono shirt and happuri.

He debated whether he should clip on his fur collar, but decided against it after a few moments. There was no need to use it in a spar; as the initial purpose was to make his shoulders appear broader than they looked, which would then cause others to think him bulkier, which in turn would make them underestimate his speed, which would also benefit him by-

Tobirama _forcefully_ pulled the brakes on his train of thoughts before they could derail into the many advantages of beguiling and misdirecting other people's senses. Sometimes, his brain didn't know what it meant to rest - there was no off button for him to press, always flying from one topic to another.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination or to develop a _twitch_ in his left eyebrow.

If Tobirama was a lesser man, his chin would be brushing the ground with disbelief. But since he had been trained to be a soldier since _before_ he could even properly _walk_ , he discreetly tried to dispel whatever illusion had befallen onto him. It didn't work.

" _Anija_ ," His voice was dry as sawdust, "Why are you wearing that and why haven't you prepared your sword?"

Hashirama only blinked, looking clueless in the face of Tobirama's disapproval.

The Senju heir had on an elegant brown kimono with a black obi, held in his right hand was a white fan with pink cherry blossoms drawn on it, and in his other was a shamisen that Tobirama swore he had seen in his cousin Touka's room before.

"But how are we suppose to dance without them?" ఠ_ఠ

That only made Tobirama all the more baffled. What did sparring have anything to do with a shamisen or a fan? Unless one was a ninja from Kaze no Kuni, nobody else in Hi no Kuni uses a fan in a battle. Apart from Madara, of course.

Tobirama still remembered the first time he saw Madara wield his gunbai, hilariously out of place in the hands of a thirteen-year-old, but awed and terrified when the Uchiha actually managed to blow back three-quarters of their forces with just one swing.

Till now, he remained clueless about Madara's full repertoire. The Uchiha heir's mastery over Fire and Wind release was clear for all to see, however, Tobirama had been taught _Water_ release by Madara when they had been younger, once upon a time when Tobirama still struggled with ninjutsu in general.

It attracted much of Tobirama's curiosity; to be in the presence of someone unbeatably was _intoxicating_.

When he once again noticed that he had been sidetracked, he swiftly returned his attention to Hashirama. No need to get aroused when in the presence of his brother. That would be just wrong on so many levels. Stupid hormones.

"With our bodies," He deadpanned, "What is wrong with you, anija? Are you feeling unwell?"

" _Tobirama_!" Hashirama suddenly shrieked, tanned cheeks alight in red. The loud volume caused the albino to flinch, having not expected that, "When I said I wanted to be closer to you, I did not mean it in _that_ way. Little brother, I love you, you know that, right?"

Tobirama nodded slowly, wary that any sudden movements on his part would trigger Hashirama into attacking him (or strangling him with hugs). Why was his brother acting so _oddly_? More so than usual, that was.

"You mean the world to me, Tobirama. However, my love for you is _purely platonic_. Just like Kawarama and Itama. Don't worry, we can work through this, ok? I won't shun you. But we can't do this type of things even in private, Tobirama. I know you're at the age of finding yourself-"

Finally losing all patience, Tobirama snapped, arms crossed over his chest to hide his confusion. He felt strangely defensive, " _What_ on earth are you talking about, anija? If you don't want to dance, all you are required to do is to simply say so and I'll be on my way."

With a sturdy poker face, he hid the sting that exuded from his chest when he said his piece. His brother didn't need to be so cruel by accepting his proposal to spar and then play the fool afterwards, right?

Hashirama suddenly froze, his skin returning to its usual shade as his brown eyes narrowed at the way Tobirama was tapping irritably on his training sword's sheath. It was a sign of nervousness, Tobirama realizes belatedly, which forces him to immediately still all movements.

With how stupid his brother constantly acts, Tobirama often times forgets that there was a brain underneath all that obliviousness.

"Tobirama..." The Senju heir started, voice oddly soft, "When you said to ' _dance using only our bodies'_ , what did you mean?"

"This is getting _ridiculous_ , anija. How else are we suppose to dance if you're holding onto a shamisen and a fan? I do believe that some people are proficient in using them as weapons, but you have never once practiced with either of them. It is dangerous to use them without-"

"Ok. I get it," Hashirama interrupted before he could go on a full tirade about the cons of using unpracticed weapons even during spars, "You're referring to _spars_ when you say _dance_. And _bodies_ as in _taijutsu_. Oh for the love of- _Tobirama_! What is with your wordings today?! They're twice as confusing! Give me a heart attack, why don't you?!"

"Again, what are you talking about? It is only because your brain is dull that my words confuse you so."

"You clueless idiot... I can't believe my genius of a brother has the emotional capacity of a _goldfish_ and the word phrasing of a _toddler_ ," Hashirama facepalmed, looking as if he couldn't believe Tobirama was _this dumb_.

Completely offended, the albino snarled.

"If anyone is an idiot, it is you, anija! Explain yourself properly!" Truly, this was Madara's insane spiel all over again. Had the two clan heirs both been dropped on their head as infants?

"... Wait here for me while I go and get changed, little brother. We can spar then."

Before Tobirama has any chance to react, Hashirama had already run off, leaving a trail of dust clouds in his wake. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let loose a frustrated exhale.

While Tobirama was weighing the pros and cons of simply ditching Hashirama in order to attend to his duties, Itama came running over, his cheeks flushed red as he panted with exertion.

"Is something wrong?"

Tobirama stoically asked even as his eyes had already begun their examination, searching his baby brother's body for injuries and the likes.

He paused slightly when he notices a purplish rhombus in the middle of Itama's sweaty forehead, previously hidden by his bangs but now seen due to how clammy his windswept hair was, before moving on with his observations _(it wasn't a concern of his if Itama and Madara had matching face tattoos from who knows when. Really. He wasn't feeling betrayed or jealous at all._ Honest _)._

"It's chichi-ue! He's deteriorating rapidly!" Itama announced seriously.

"Report this to anija. I will go ahead."

Without waiting for Itama to respond, Tobirama sped off in the direction of his father's bedroom.

Tobirama's narrow red eyes were dark, and in his mind, all there currently was were plans being calculated and discarded at a speed that those with average IQ could never keep up with.

"Madara would be glad. Perhaps this news would improve his mood," He ended up muttering under his breath, his lips unconsciously curled into a small smile.

* * *

 **A/N:**

GYAAAAA! I'm super duper extremely sorry for the late update orz... I've recently moved into a new flat (it's awesome ٩(θ‿θ)۶). Unpacking was a chore, though ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽.

2nd year of Uni has finally begun (gotta do a lot of prep work, assignments, etc). I was super pumped to finally get back to my studies. But as soon as I sat in class and opened my textbook... I longed for the holidays to come. Humans, such contradicting creatures we are (－‸ლ).

So~ I hoped you've enjoyed this chapter (◕‿◕✿)!

 **P.S.** I'll soon be going to my clinical placement for an entire month (in a rural area! Isn't that exciting?!). Hence I won't be able to update any of my works for some time (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)... Unless I can stop procrastinating and edit this entire thing before I leave!


	18. Chapter 18

Madara was ecstatic. The news of Senju Butsuma's death could not have come at a better time! Without further ado, he sent word (via one of his hawk, Touryou, since _only_ the main house lack servants) for Hikari to make an appearance in front of him.

Whilst he relaxedly stood in the middle of the small balcony connected to his private office, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun, he caresses Toboe's breast feathers. His onyx eyes were gentle when he gazed at the docile red-tail albino hawk perched majestically on his gloved dorsum.

A hastily written note was currently on top of his desk, next to the many piled scrolls and untouched paperwork. Madara smirked; it had been a good decision on his part to train homing pigeons in secret. That was not all he had done in the shadows, however. Another scheme of his that has not seen the light of day was his personal brainwashed moles.

The benefits of having _loyal_ undercover agents working as servants for other shinobi clans had been something Madara had implemented as soon as his chakra reserves were big enough for him to impart his will onto gullible civilians via genjutsu and seals.

Whenever he was out on missions, he would constantly seek out street rats ( _the younger the better_ ) to use as sleeper agents, causing 'coincidental' and 'tragic' encounters to pull at one's heartstrings.

Shinobi may have been trained to be hired killers and soldiers of war, but ultimately, unlike Madara who perceive others to be pawns on his chessboard, they were still human and would take pity on the starving civilian orphans struggling to survive out on the streets.

"It's funny how my plans all come together so easily in this life," He whispered in satisfaction, his lips brushing softly against Toboe's white wings.

When he heard a meek and feminine voice outside his shoji doors, Madara called for his expected guest to enter whilst also turning to face her. Hikari did so with her head bowed low and her body language radiating unease. He had predicted such a reaction, hence he only gazed at her with frosty eyes.

The reason for her fearful behavior and his blunt disdain was not unfounded. She had, after all, done him a great disservice by breaking their contract. One that they had _mutually_ agreed on: to cohabitate as housemates rather than spouses.

In fact, she should be _groveling_ at his magnanimity when he decided to spare her life. If he had not experienced so many hardships and lived through so many wars brought by vengeance, her continuous survival in _Madara's_ household could not be assured after that vile wrongdoing.

 _That_ incident had happened two months ago - and the result was apparent.

After _that_ , she has wisely limited all interactions with him and his brothers as much as possible. However, as a sensor second only to Senju Tobirama, the subtle formation of tiny chakra networks around her abdominal region was too obvious.

"Madara-sa-"

"Who gave you the permission to call me by my name? Or rather, who gave you permission to speak at all?"

Madara's pair of onyx eyes flashed crimson, the veins of his forehead throbbing in pure fury when the memory of _that night_ appeared suddenly in his mind, the vivid evocation of his name being whispered over and over again by her was disgusting.

It made him gnash his teeth in anger.

When Hikari saw his darkening expression, she flinched and hunched her shoulders to appear as pitiful and small as possible.

It took a painfully long time for Madara to compartmentalize and calm down, but after he did, he allowed for his lips to curve into a slight yet cruel smile.

Today was a good day, and it shan't be spoilt by the likes of her.

Thanks to one of his pigeon's swift delivery, by the end of this week, Tajima would be buried six feet under and Madara would officially be crowned the clan head. He could not help but allow a faint giggle to slip past his lips, the madness and excitement in his eyes hard to contain.

Finally, **_finally_** , he could shrug off all the restrictive chains and act accordingly.

With his chin tipped upwards, he looked down his nose at Hikari as if she was something less than human. Toboe too gave her a piercing stare, looking away not a minute later as if he had deemed her unworthy of any attention.

Although Madara wanted so badly to be rid of her, the life in her womb stopped him from doing anything rash. She still has her uses despite the disgusting feeling he gets whenever he sees her. He only needed to wait another seven months before he could throw her to his beloved raptors to feast upon.

Besides, he had already placed a seal at the back of her tongue; disallowing her from talking to anyone about her daily activities here in Madara's household.

Before Madara could kindly inform her about the acts she would be compiled into maneuvering, the shoji door leading into his office slid open. Izuna came strutting inside as if he owned the place, which only made Madara sigh indulgently, the insanity in his eyes hidden behind the shadow of his fringe.

"Tadaima, aniki!" Izuna grinned from ear to ear, "Didja miss me?!"

Izuna completely ignored the blood splatters on his person and lunged at Madara for a hug. The Uchiha heir didn't bother to dodge, only resigning himself to be covered in the blood of his brother's victims. Toboe squawked indignantly when he was knocked into the air, flying out the window after giving Izuna a few angry pecks.

"Okaerinasai, Izuna. You know very well that I constantly _ache_ to acquaint you with our newly dug koi pond."

"Aniki is always so mean to me. What do Ryouta, Taku, and Yaku have that I don't?"

"Cuteness," Madara deadpanned, voice slightly muffled against Izuna's shoulder.

Izuna puffed out his cheeks in mock anger, "Excuse you! I am, and forever will be, cute!"

"Just keep saying that, Izu. Who knows maybe one day, it'll come true," Madara chuckled whilst fondly patting his little brother's back, "Anyway, are you hurt anywhere?"

"Do my feelings count?"

"No."

"Demon."

"Your compliment makes me blush."

"..."

At Izuna's speechless face, Madara smirked. Teasing Izuna has always brought him much entertainment. However, they should not get side-tracked.

"So, did something happen for you to come back early?" Madara worriedly cupped his younger brother's blood-stained cheeks, staring straight into a pair of similar onyx eyes.

Tajima had given Izuna a full week to complete a bandit extermination mission just outside the Uchiha territory. But it has only been three days since his departure.

This could only mean that Izuna has completed his assignment and intentionally returned early - which was something Izuna _would never do_ in a million years. The younger Uchiha prefers to play around the red light districts until the very last minute, only returning when due.

"O ye of little faith," Izuna pouted for a couple of seconds, before abruptly turning serious, "The information supplied to us was inaccurate. We'll need to launch an investigation on the client. If I had not been bored and pushed for the mission, Tatsumaki, who otou-san has selected beforehand, would not have survived this."

Madara gave his brother's cheeks one last caress before he walked behind his desk and sat down.

"Elaborate," he demanded whilst he rested his elbows atop his mahogany desk and his chin on his intertwined fingers. Izuna instinctually straightened his posture, completely ignoring Hikari who was now standing awkwardly near the doors ( _not daring to leave, yet at the same time not daring to ask for permission to leave_ ).

"Judging by the way the bandits moved, I suspect that they had been trained formally in the shinobi arts. Or rather, I do not believe that they are actually bandits. Perhaps a minor clan hired to act like bandits. I've captured the presumed leader and handed him to Hikaku for further interrogation."

"Since you have fought him in battle, you should roughly know his personality. How soon do you reckon he will he break?"

"He's stubborn, that's for sure. However, he is not fully trained to guard against genjutsu. I believe that Hikaku would be able to crack his head open after a few days."

"Hn. I suspect that that is not all?"

"Aniki is right," Izuna gave a wry smile, "The estimated strength of the enemies was also wrong - there were at least three times the numbers stated. The reason why I am able to come out _partially_ unscathed was due to my training under you, aniki. For those of Tatsumaki's level, it would've been suicide."

"... Other than myself, who else have you told about this?"

"Nobody. I had a feeling you would not like it if I reported this matter to otou-san or his aide."

"Good instincts. I've indeed raised you well," Madara leaned back against his seat with narrowed eyes, "I smell an infestation of pests in our backyard."

"The upper echelons?"

"Perhaps. My gut, however, tells me that their servants' quarters would have more of a stench."

"Why though? I don't understand the connection... All that effort used to insert themselves into our midst, screw up our intel - just to get our eyes? It'll be easier to just sneak in, gouge out a few pairs of eyes, and sneak out in the middle of the night."

"No," At Izuna's confused expression, Madara elaborated, "Not entirely. You might not know this since you have never encountered veteran hunters before, but in my experience, seasoned dōjutsu thieves would often than not work in a four-man cell when their aim is a _singular_ Uchiha party. They would also have a medic-nin specialized in enucleation with them. The Sharingan is useless if not activated, hence their aim is to give us a killing blow at the right moment-"

Since nobody but Tobirama and (then)Hashirama noticed that the Uchiha clan were far more emotional than they portray themselves to be. It would be a major clusterfuck if their enemies discover that the Sharingan could be triggered by intense emotional distress.

"-since it is also useless to implant a deactivated Sharingan into the sockets of a non-Uchiha, as they do not have the right cranial nerves to control our eyes. Hence my point: the more manpower they have, the more likely it is that they are prepared to abduct someone _alive_ and in _generally good health_ despite their own casualties. Quantity over quality for hunters could only mean one thing."

Izuna immediately went pale at the insinuation.

"Bloodline thieves," The younger Uchiha whispered hoarsely.

Nothing was worse than being forced to become another clan's _breeding horse_.

It would be a far kinder fate for an Uchiha to have their eyes gouged after death than to remain alive and have their children be raised as disposable fodder against their own kin ( _unless that particular Uchiha was defective like Tajima_ ).

"Indeed. If this hypothesis of mine is all true, I fear that... who was it again?"

"Tatsumaki."

"Yes, I fear that Fubuki-"

"It's Tasumaki."

"-is not the only one who has been targetted... This is not a good thing, Izuna. I'll need Ryouta to replace Hikaku - and be sure to inform him that I expect fruitful results in an hour's time."

Izuna furrowed his brow, "Does that mean you'll authorize the use of _those_ approaches?"

"I trust Ryouta to know the limits, even if he has to get a little rough," Madara says sternly.

"But... If others know about Ryouta's involvement or the methods he uses..."

Madara understood Izuna's hesitancy.

Although Madara phrased it in such a nice way, in their violent world, 'a little rough' would be interpreted as 'do whatever it takes as long as the prisoner remains alive'. For those who have a weak heart, it would be career-suicide to assign them such a task.

As for why Madara gave this interrogation to Ryouta... Unlike how motherly and duteous his second younger brother was, inwardly, he was an _extreme_ sadist.

After having learned of Ryouta's interest in all matters regarding T&I, Madara had taught him all that he knew about extracting intel from a person. Be they by physical or mental means.

And because Ryouta, as soon as he was assigned to the Intel Unit, would have his head full of confidential info, Madara was obliged to train him in counter-interrogation and escape techniques as well. Some of their clansmen in that unit had paled and barfed all over themselves when they coincidentally stumbled upon Madara dishing out those techniques to Ryouta.

Madara's training, as usual, was not for the weak of heart ( _whilst being mentally strong was a quality that all shinobi required to function properly, torture was something many would blanch at no matter how 'safe' the training environment was_ ).

Although Madara was protective of his family, he would not overstep the line and cross into the territory of smothering them. After all, too much love could weaken them. The only way to survive in this harsh era was to guide his little brothers when they are young and push them down the cliff as soon as he deemed them ready to survive the fall.

With an exhausted sigh, Madara rubbed his aching temples, "I am not fond of repeating myself, Izuna."

"The aftermath won't be pretty if you approve this. With all due respect, I ask that you reconsider, aniki. Think about your reputation as the clan heir. You're already being called a ' _faulty'_ Uchiha."

That was true. But did Madara have time to concern himself about his reputation when lives were currently at risk? There had already been _three_ KIA reports this month, their bodies not found due to one reason or another.

Therein lies the problem.

One report may be excused. Two reports in a short timeframe may be due to bad luck. Three reports, however, was a _conspiracy_. Fubuki may very well have been a fourth victim if Izuna had not stepped in.

What if all those three reported clansmen had been captured and detained without Tajima and his lackey's know so? Madara was frustrated and wishes he could send out a few squads to investigate those deaths ASAP. But first and foremost, he _needed_ to flush out the infestation of rats in his home prior to doing anything that could cause a leak.

Who, other than Izuna, could he trust to send out to investigate this matter? That was the main question as one mistake could throw everything into disarray.

"Reputation?" He chuckled without humor, his Sharingan flashing for a microsecond, "Why should I give two shites about a reputation that has already been dragged through the mud?"

"Tsk," Izuna clicked his tongue, clearly displeased, "It's because you refuse to correct their assumptions and misunderstandings! Are you going to keep quiet _again_? Just like how you turn a blind eye when the Intel Unit began spreading stupid shit like how you constantly mistreat Ryouta? That's fucking ridiculous! Do they not have eyes?! You were only training hi-"

" _Focus_ , Izuna. Don't get side-tracked. Is there anything else to report?" Madara purposefully looked away, busying his hands with folding the note his pigeon had delivered.

His younger brother pursed his lips into a thin line, but ultimately shook his head in negative.

"No. Should I investigate the client?"

"Leave that to Hikaku. Before you go, I'll trouble you with burning this for me," Madara passes the note to Izuna, who stored it inside his sleeves without looking.

"Understood. I'll be taking my leave now, sir."

"Good work, soldier," Before Izuna could take another step, Madara licked the bottom of his lips and spoke in a tentative manner, not at all eager for them to part on such tensed terms, "Izu? I've been craving for inarizushi lately."

The younger Uchiha froze.

It took a few tensed seconds before he responded, a wide grin on his face and his professional shinobi mask nowhere to be found, "Then we should pick a date for the five of us to have a picnic! It's been a while since we've gone on a family outing. I'll be sure to bring the ingredients required for Ryouta to cook your favorite food, aniki."

"Un. I appreciate all your effort, otouto."

The second Izuna closed the shoji door behind of him, Madara's eyes were instantly upon Hikari, the gentleness that had been there when speaking with Izuna now replaced by frost.

When she notices his attention, she immediately bowed her head, a layer of cold sweat appearing on her forehead.

"Now then... This is what you are going to do for me, _my dear and loyal wife_."

Hikari shuddered, her entire body shaking like a leaf as she stared straight into those abyss-like eyes.

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh, man. So much info dump. So much character background dump. So stifling~ I hope this chapter didn't chase away all my readers (╥_╥)...

On another note: thank you so much for all your amazing comments. They seriously bring me joy (*´∀`*)!

P.S. We're finally going to end this Childhood arc soon. Are you guys excited for the Konoha arc? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧


	19. 19:Uchiha Hikari's Unnecessary Interlude

**Warning:** **There will be mature contents below**. Hikari's actions and thoughts might seem unpleasant to some (most). If you're uncomfortable, you can honestly skip this chapter or the part with the asterisk.

* * *

Uchiha Hikari felt both pleased and nervous when the name of her marriage partner was revealed last night by her honorable grandfather, Uchiha Akio, one of the five respected Uchiha elders. Although she has been raised from young with the anticipation of being their clan heir's wife, the promise of Tajima-sama's words made it _real_.

It was, without a doubt, an honor to marry him. Madara-sama was their clan's strongest warrior. And despite being two years younger than him, she believes that with her wifely devotion and etiquette training, she would be able to act like a proper lady and not let him down.

Her immediate family members, too, were all joyful to hear that Hikari would be marrying into the main house, but there still lies a worry at the forefront of their minds due to the many rumors circulating about Madara-sama. Bad ones.

For example, one of the many revolting rumors was that he did not have any emotions and would not hesitate to kill his own brothers if they so much as look at him wrong.

However, Akio-jiisama has assured them repeatedly that although Madara-sama was a distant and frigid man, he was still, at the base, an Uchiha, and by default, an Uchiha was loyal to their family and loved ones.

In order for their Sharingan to evolve, they have to feel intense emotions; most of which were likely to be love ( _she was surprised to hear from her honorable grandfather that Madara-sama even has the Sharingan, as many of her fellow clansmen believe that he was one of those defective 'unawakened' ones_ ).

Hence, Akio-jiisama emphasized that Hikari should not believe in any of those rumors that denounce Madara-sama's reputation, voices that called him _faulty_. An emotionless Uchiha could never grow to be _that_ powerful. And while many whisper about Madara-sama only having homosexual urges, Hikari doubted that ( _surely, they were simply jealous of Madara-sama's talents and pure_ _ancestry_ ).

Madara-sama was a warrior, never one to sit still and always departing for missions and war - never having much time for debauchery. Thus, Hikari believes that Madara-sama was simply inexperience in the areas of pleasure rather than _ill_ in the head ( _no sane man would ever love his own gender. That was simply disgusting and unnatural_ ).

Furthermore, Akio-jiisama told her repeatedly that Madara-sama has never once disobeyed the orders of the clan elders and head - the perfect weapon to harness against those wretched Senju. And Hikari held high respects for Madara-sama, who sacrificed so much for their clan.

"Remember your training, Hikari," Her mother suddenly said as she continues to comb through Hikari's long, beautiful hair, "You will be Madara-sama's beautiful bride. Be sure to fulfill your womanly duties and serve him to your best abilities - bring pride to our family. You must give birth to many of his sons, Hikari."

"I won't disappoint you nor Akio-jiisama, haha-ue."

Mother and daughter both smiled pleasantly at each other, both in their own imaginary world where Madara-sama was clan head and Hikari's son their clan's treasured heir.

The child born from Madara-sama and Hikari would no doubt be beautiful, regal, and strong. That, she has no doubt.

* * *

A week flew by in the speed of light.

Preparations were perfected as the women cleaned and decorated for the much-anticipated wedding between their clan's heir and one of the honorable elders' granddaughters, also known as one of their clan's top beauty ( _Hikari was not shy to call herself a beauty even in her own mind, as that was a fact_ ).

Hikari sat still on the zabuton as her mother did her bridal makeup and hair, her gaze never once wavering from the mirror that showed a reflection of a regal lady in a beautiful and elegant shiromuku.

All five of her siblings, on the other hand, were excitedly chattering around the duo, their conversation varies, but it was mostly about the members of the main house. Thanks to Hikari, they would all be in-laws, and that meant that they could get to know Madara-sama's younger brothers more intimately.

The marriage would also elevate their family's hierarchy within the clan, making them second only to the main house.

"Hikari-neesama! You'll have to invite us into your home whenever possible!" Hitomi, their family's second eldest daughter, gushed in an infatuated manner, "Aahh, to have a close-up view of Izuna-sama... That will be a dream come true!"

 _Indeed_. Hikari secretly agreed that Izuna-sama was one of the most handsome people in their clan. Not needing to mention how super friendly he was, frequently chatting with the civilians even as he made his almsgiving rounds. She and the other unwedded girls would often look at him with gazes full of longing.

"What are you talking about, nee-san?! Just a close-up view? Hah! Aim higher and have a conversation with him! You might never know if you'll pique his interest," Hiiro, their family's eldest son and a shinobi, wiggled his eyebrows in a lecherous manner.

Her siblings all laughed when Hitomi imitated a tomato, stuttering denials as she shyly covered her face with her hands. Before any of them could tease Hitomi further, there was a pleasant voice calling from outside Hikari's shoji doors, requesting to enter.

Her mother checked Hikari's make-up and hair one last time before granting permission. The person, who they all assumed to be a servant, softly slid open the door and walked into the room with a grace that exhibits his shinobi training.

Everyone was shocked to see that it was _Ryouta_ -sama who came, doing the duties of a lowly servant rather than that of a respected shinobi. Or rather, it was generally shocking to see the fifteen-year-old _at all_ since Ryouta-sama was rarely seen outside the main residence or the Intel Unit building, too busy with his duties to mingle with the community.

Hikari was older than Ryouta-sama by a year, but despite his younger age, she could appreciate his graceful features. Truly, all of the main house members were beautiful in their own way. She was looking forward to seeing how Madara-sama turned out to be - as nobody could actually tell her what he looks like except for his wild, untamed hair.

"I-I apologize for letting Ryouta-sama inconvenience himself by coming all the way here," Her mother was the one who recovered first and reacted. Snapping back from their daze, all of them were quick to follow her example and bowed to show their respect to him.

Ryouta-sama smiled sweetly while waving off the apology, "Please, raise your heads. Hikari-san will soon become Madara-ani's wife, and us family by marriage."

"Y-yes, Ryouta-sama. It is as you say. May I know if you will be the one who escorts her to the venue?"

"Hikari-san is a very important individual right now. This is the least I can do, no? It should have been Izuna-niisama in my place, but unfortunately, he is currently in charge of security."

Hikari, along with her family, relaxed at his words.

True enough, they should've realized that a mere servant could never represent the status of the main house. This wedding was an important one for their entire clan. The risk of an assassin pretending to be a servant was high. Hence, for the main house to send someone of Ryouta-sama's calibre as her escort-slash-bodyguard was a huge favor to their family.

This could also be seen that the main house approved of the bride, which meant that Hikari was now something like the Uchiha clan's princess, someone meant to be protected and showered with love. It made her want to puff her chest out in pride, but she held herself back.

After all, it would not do to show anything but modesty when in front of someone that was of a higher rank than her ( _for now_ ).

"Thank you for your kindness and time, Ryouta-sama," Hikari returned his smile and stepped closer to the younger Uchiha, "Do we leave now?"

"Yes."

When she turned to address her family, she missed the frost that flashed through Ryouta's pair of bottomless onyx eyes - the eyes of a T&I officer who had seen something he disliked. If someone were to see this cruel and sadistic personality of his, they would no doubt run for the hills.

Thankfully on her part, when she turned to face him, he was already back to his 'cute' and 'friendly' self.

As soon as they arrived at the shrine, her eyes immediately landed on the groom, standing loftily at the front in his dashing montsuki.

Madara-sama, for once, has his mane tied into a high ponytail. The hairstyle forced him to reveal his handsome and sharp features ( _was the rhombus on his forehead a temporary wedding decoration of some kind_?), which only made Hikari's heart further quicken, her cheeks no doubt red from shyness.

To have the honor of marrying someone with such gorgeous features... The women of their clan would no doubt envy her once they lay their eyes on Madara-sama at the reception later on, as the ritual and vows were for immediate family only.

Although Hikari wanted to quickly stand next to her groom, she forcefully held herself back and strode elegantly towards Madara-sama.

Finally, her dream of marrying into the main house was coming true ( _although deep in her heart, she had kinda hoped that she could be married to Izuna; the Uchiha clan's heartthrob and most desirable bachelor_ ).

* * *

The time has come for them to celebrate their first night together.

Hikari was nervously anticipating the arrival of her newly wedded husband. She was currently inside Madara-sama's bedroom, in seiza and on his ( _their_ ) futon, facing the shoji doors with a tempting curl of her lips. She waited patiently for him, the time ticking away until it reached an hour, which soon turned into two, which then became three.

Midnight had long passed, yet there was still no sign of Madara-sama. Hikari has long lost her smile, her posture slack as she bit her bottom lip anxiously, thinking of all the gossip it would garner if they did not consummate on the first night of their marriage.

Just as she decided to make a move to search for her missing husband, the shoji door slid open, revealing Madara-sama who was still in his ceremonial attire.

She was quick to smile at him, albeit slightly strained.

"Madara-sama," She executed a perfect saikeirei for three seconds, bowing at a 45° angle from her seiza position, the tips of her fingers placed delicately on the floor in front of her knees with her thumbs touching, "This wife greets her husband."

Before she could even begin her flattery, Madara-sama held up a hand to stop her. She tilted her head in confusion but obeyed nonetheless.

"I've kept you waiting."

Hikari couldn't help the shiver of anticipation from showing when she heard Madara's slightly husky baritone. His voice was extremely pleasant to the ear - rich and almost _seductive_ , even.

"N-not at all, Madara-sama," She bowed her head while at the same time peeking at him shyly, "I know you have many important matters lined up in your tight schedule. I should be the one thanking you for taking the time to come and greet me."

"I value those who understand."

Suddenly, Hikari's cheeks flushed with color. The reason was due to Madara-sama's barely there smile. She so badly wanted to fidget in place, as her womanhood was no doubt soaked from the sex appeal Madara-sama was _oozing_.

"I thank you for your praise," Hikari responded in a subservient manner.

When he took a step inside and slid close the shoji door, she didn't care to conceal the way her eyes were focused solely on him. She waited with bated breath as he shrugged off his attire, layer by layer, until he was only in his fundoshi.

Hikari hungrily devoured him with her eyes.

She gazes intently at his sinewy arms, long legs, and a delicious six-pack on his abdomen - his body was all firm and tight with muscles and not an ounce of fat could be seen. That was, no doubt, the body of a veteran shinobi. The proof of his strength came from the lack of visible scars, almost non-existent on his milky white skin.

Unexpectedly, Madara-sama's body was also riddled in various inked patterns and designs. In her opinion, the tattoos only enhanced his natural beauty. They tempted her to lick and nibble and savor _all_ of him.

Just as she slipped a portion of her kimono off her slim shoulders, teasingly revealing a portion of her alluring skin... Madara-sama turned away to open his wardrobe. He then slipped into a pair of shinobi pants and high collared mantle - an attire worn when an Uchiha warrior was prepared to go on a mission or leave the compound.

"I-Is Madara-sama leaving for a mission?" She rushed to question him, unwilling to conceal the dishearten expression on her face. Hopefully, he could hear the dismay in her tone and change his mind.

"Hn," Was all Madara-sama said before he jumped out the window and left without looking back.

Hikari's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

 _'But_ ,' she suddenly clenched her fists, her eyes filled with determination, ' _I would not be discouraged that easily_!'

With her gorgeous looks and alluring curves, which man could ever deny her? She would get him to eat out of her palms by the end of this month!

* * *

Two months after their marriage;

"Will you be available tonight, Madara-sama?"

"I have a meeting with the war council. Don't wait up for me."

"Your wife understands."

 **xxx**

Four months after their marriage;

"Please allow me to assist you in cleaning up, Madara-sama."

"Hn."

"May I ask how your mission went?"

"Well."

"Then tonight-"

"I am too tired."

"I understand. Rest well."

 **xxx**

Sixth months after their marriage;

"Should I disrobe myself or would you prefer to be the one to do so, Madara-sama? I do not mind either way."

"Keep them on. The twins will be arriving soon."

"Oh."

 **xxx**

Eight months after their marriage;

"Madara-sama. After dinner-"

"I'll be with Ryouta. He needs help with his calligraphy."

"... Understood."

 **xxx**

Ten months after their marriage;

"Izuna-sama? I apologize for interrupting your lunch, but do you perchance know where Madara-sama is?"

"Aniki? Sorry, Hikari-san. You just missed him. Aniki has already left for a mission. It'll be a long one so don't get your hopes up."

"I... understand. Thank you for telling me."

 **xxx**

A year after their marriage;

"Does Madara-sama dislike me, Ryouta-sama?"

"Hmm. You have to understand that anija is a very busy person."

"I am his wife yet I rarely see him nowadays..."

"Indeed you are, Hikari-san. However, do remember that Madara-ani is our clan's heir and war general. You'll have to excuse him as he has more meetings, missions, and appointments than the average person. Anija has too much on his plate - too many duties to attend to. But don't worry, Hikari-san. I'll drop word to him that you are concern about his health."

"I apologize if I seem to be whining."

"No, not at all. We are family, are we not?"

"Y-yes. Thank you, Ryouta-sama. You are truly kind."

* * *

Hikari stood outside of their shared bedroom, near the koi pond, distractedly watching the fishes as they swam around leisurely. She allowed her thoughts to wander while she bathed in the morning sun.

It has been a year and two months since she was wedded, yet her body was left untouched by her husband. Sometimes, she would wonder if Madara-sama found her lacking, but that reasoning seemed off. As whenever she went shopping for groceries, most men would often be ensnared by her beauty. So she knew it was not her appearance that was at fault.

Furthermore, he did not treat her with scorn - always polite and considerate of her feelings ( _yet at the same time distant_ ). There were many times, whenever she felt neglected, he would walk around the residence with her or take her out to dinner like any other couple. But after that, Madara-sama would always leave, never stepping foot into their shared bedroom.

Really, she has no idea how to go about and ask Madara-sama to impregnate her - as desperate as that sounded, even in her own head.

Whenever she sees him - as sparse as it was nowadays - she couldn't help her heart from speeding up. Truly, the man was too good-looking for his own good. Her respect for him had slowly turned into infatuation after the many dinner dates they had, and that adoration had morphed into love whenever he touches her arm or shoulder in passing ( _or was that lust?_ ).

She sighed, not at all looking forward to her mother's monthly visit this afternoon.

Haha-ue has been nagging her as of late, constantly questioning if she was with child. Tajima-sama, too, was becoming impatient. However, how could she possibly be so bold and tell them that she was still pure in body? That Madara-sama has yet to sleep in the same futon with her even at this stage?

That would, without a doubt, cause both Madara-sama and her great humiliation. Besides, nobody but the parties involved needed to know about her nightly activities with the clan heir - _or lack thereof_.

"We need to talk."

Hikari squeaked and faced the speaker simultaneously, her hands patting her chest as if that would help to reduce the racing of her heart. When she saw that it was only Madara-sama ( _his hair was in a messy braid - lucky!_ ), she smiled and bowed politely in greeting.

"Hello, Madara-sama. It always is a pleasant surprise to see you. Did you just return from one of Izuna-sama's grooming sessions?"

"Hn."

Madara-sama stiffly nodded, arms crossed over his chest in an imposing manner as he gazes into her eyes, black meeting black. Hikari could feel her cheeks warm up at the intensity of his stare, and the urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss him silly was hard to diffuse the longer they maintained eye contact.

However, she knew that _that_ was not something she could do without his consent. All shinobi, after all, were twitchy creatures.

Their survival instincts have no off-button, so to speak ( _especially for someone like Madara-sama, who was brought up in the battlefield and baths in the blood of their enemies on a daily basis)_. There were many cases where the spouses of shinobi were killed unintentionally due to accidental touches. Hikari was smart enough to avoid raising a death flag by unnecessary bodily contact.

So she stilled her hands by folding and placing them on her obi.

"I will get straight to the point. Hikari, let us enter a contract to coexist as friends under the same roof rather than spouses."

Hikari perked up when he spoke her name, but the following made her flinch. She panicked, a million thoughts raced inside her head as she fought back her tears.

"A-Am I not to Madara-sama's l-liking?" She whispered hoarsely, biting back the instinct to grasp at his sleeves in a fit of childish tantrum, "If there is anything I did to displease you, please allow me to rectify my mista-"

"Stop. You did nothing wrong."

"Then why...?"

Madara-sama's face, as per usual, was devoid of any emotion. He was silent for a long moment, the tension between them raising as minutes ticked by. Ever so slowly, Madara-sama began to uncross his arms, before withdrawing a handkerchief from his billowing sleeves.

She didn't notice she was crying until Madara-sama began drying her tears for her. Embarrassed to have shown her vulnerability, she clenched her eyes shut and took several deep breaths. Once she felt that she was calm enough to speak without stuttering, she opened her eyes and spoke.

"Do you, perchance, have another person in your heart?"

The Uchiha heir tilted his head to the side, his blank yet handsome features revealing nothing. Again, there was a painful silence between them. She began gnawing on her bottom lip, the feelings of denial and betrayal causing her to tear up yet again.

"I have remained faithful to our vows, if that is what you are truly asking."

"Pardon me for my insolence, but it is hard to believe in your words when you _refuse_ to bed me. How would I truly know if you are simply too tired after a mission or if you had someone else take care of your needs?"

She knew she had stepped out of line when his eyes narrowed into slits, but her emotions were making it hard for her to think properly. She loves Madara-sama with all her heart - and for him to clearly state that he desires to only be friends... it was a blow to her feelings and womanly pride.

If others were to find out about this, she would be labeled as a wife who had spectacularly failed to satisfy her husband. But, could she be blamed when it was her husband who refuses to give her a chance to satisfy his needs?

"I'll forgive your discourtesy this time... as I can see that you are clearly distressed by the news I bear. I will seek your presence tomorrow and we shall continue our discussion then, Hikari."

Before she could say anything - to either rebuke or beg, she didn't know - Madara-sama has already departed, even his silhouette could not be seen. There and then, she crumpled to her knees and sobbed into her sleeves, her heart clouded in despair.

After all, deep inside, she already knew that Madara-sama would never touch nor adore her in a way only a lover would. She simply was in denial.

"What a cruel man you are, Madara-sama," She whispered into the wind as her tears continuously rolled down her cheeks.

 **xxx**

In the end, Hikari, with great reluctance, agreed to enter a cohabitation contract with him - though there was a condition to sleep in the same room.

Madara-sama, also with great reluctance, accepted her condition, but he was persistent that they sleep on different futons. Hikari knew she could not push further than that, hence she ultimately conceded.

Beyond everything else, Hikari would continue to try her best to make him fall in love with her ( _as futile as it sounds_ ). Or worst-case scenario, she would think of something else in order to remain as his wife. Hikari refuses to leave the main house and she refuses to let their current relationship deteriorate into simple friendship.

She _refuses_.

* * *

 ***** Hikari went through her day like usual; she cooked, she cleaned, she did the laundry, she went grocery shopping, she talked about politics over tea, etcetera. There was not a single activity she did that was out of place, fulfilling her duties as the heir's wife.

When evening came around, she set the table with all of Madara-sama's favorite food, seeing that Tajima-sama and all of her brothers-in-law were currently out on missions. She mentally patted herself on the back for a job well done and hopes that Madara-sama would praise her food this time.

Unfortunately, he was silent throughout the meal, only grunting and 'hn'-ing in response to her chatters. She was in a good mood tonight, hence she did not kick up a fuss.

After dinner, she cleaned up and retired early for the night, while Madara-sama retreated to his office.

When Madara-sama finally returned to their shared bedroom, he slipped silently into his futon. There were no sounds to be heard other than Hikari's breathing. But then, just as the timer in Hikari's head hit 0, she heard a soft rustling coming from Madara-sama's side of the room.

Hikari cautiously cracked an eye open and turned to face her husband. Although it was dark, her eyes have already adjusted and like any other Uchiha, even for the civilians, she was born with naturally good vision.

For the very first time, she saw Madara-sama struggle to push himself into a seating position, only to fall back abruptly as if he was a puppet whose strings were cut. His yukata looked damp with sweat and his face was flushed with exertion.

For someone so dominant to show such a weak side... This vulnerability was making her blood sing. With slow movements, she slithered out from her covers and carefully approached him.

"Madara-sama? Are you in pain?" Her voice was but a mere whisper.

Usually, at this point in time, Madara-sama would deny any and all of her concerns. But now, he only panted on the futon, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, and dark hair fanned around him like he was a bewitching model preparing to be drawn on a portrait.

It seems that Akio-jiisama has fulfilled his part. Now, it was her turn - and hopefully, she would not mess up.

With her heart thumping in nervous anticipation, she recalls Akio-jiisama's prior instructions. Her trembling fingers dug into her pillow cover, retrieves a syringe that was already loaded with an unknown liquid of some kind, and injects the contents directly into Madara-sama's arm - before scrambling away in case he reacted fast enough to snap her neck.

The result was immediate.

Madara-sama gasped, head lolling to one side as the rapid and long-acting drug awoken his libido while at the same time paralyzing his movements temporarily.

Now that she was sure of his immobility, she retrieves a paper bracelet from her pillow cover and tied it around Madara-sama's wrist. His chakra was instantly sealed, leaving him helpless and in her mercy. If she had been an assassin, this would have been his end.

"Luckily, I am Madara-sama's wife," She giggled while simultaneously pushing the hair out of his face. He truly was gorgeous. The baby produced by them would, without a doubt, be beautiful, "Don't worry, Madara-sama. I'll soon help you relieve yourself."

Eager to start, she removes the covers from his body and untied the obi belt from Madara-sama's yukata. She couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, feeling as if she was opening a present. A very sexy present.

With gentle movements, she trailed a hand up Madara-sama's abs, loving the feel of hard muscles against her palm. His amazing body trembled under her touch, which prompted her to quicken her pace. Was he as eager as she was?

"Does this feel good, Madara-sama?" Hikari licked her lips as she palmed his straining erection. Knowing full well that Madara-sama was not in any condition to talk or do anything but lay there, she helped him free his manhood from his fundoshi and positioned herself atop of him.

Not wanting to hurt herself, she was careful when she pushed his length into her wet cavern. She gasped at the painful intrusion and stretch at first, but after a few moments, she only felt full. After adjusting, she began rocking her lower body tentatively - and it made Madara-sama grunt in pleasure, much to her delight.

 _(Madara had his eyes clenched shut, and due to her excitement, she failed to notice the single tear that escaped and mixed together with his sweat.)_

"Madara-sama... Madara-sama... _Madara-sama_..." She repeatedly panted and moaned into his ear, loving the heat that traveled up her spine, through her hardened nipples, and into her very core.

The night progressed in this fashion, and whenever Madara-sama so much as twitch his fingers or had gone soft after cumming, she would pump more drugs into his system - which made him a drooling mess with blown pupils by the end of their coupling.

As soon as the sun began to rise, she got dressed, got rid of all evidence, and left the residence for her family home with a smile on her lips.

They had planned this for _months_ , and Akio-jiisama warned that once the drugs have left Madara-sama's system, it would be dangerous to remain near him.

But she need not worry for long. His anger would only last for a short while. Akio-jiisama had reassured her that in due time, Madara-sama would come to love and treasure her - as soon as she gives birth to his child.

She giggles happily as she skips towards her destination, not minding how Madara-sama's essence was dripping down her thighs underneath her kimono.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope that this chapter has answered most of the questions you guys had?** **╭( ･ㅂ･)و**

I actually didn't want to give Hikari any spotlight 'cause... _what if you guys ended up pitying her_ (´ж｀;)?!... but because there are too many questions concerning her and her actions, I decided to write a whole chapter showcasing her POV!

To be honest, it took quite some time for me and my plot bunnies to actually build up the motivation to insert this into my draft but... hahaha ( ՞ਊ՞)...! I even shrugged off the edits since I wasn't keen on re-reading this over and over again to finalize it. So I apologize if you spot many errors in there or if its full of unnecessary phrases and sentences.

 _Anyway_ , let's all stop requesting ( _intentionally or otherwise_ ) the author for extra chapters, ok? This ' _one-shot_ ' (lol) is never gonna end at this rate.


	20. Chapter 20

The office was filled with the smell of incense and matcha leaves.

Madara, Izuna, and Ryouta were seated in a circle, surrounding a low table with a ceramic tea set atop of it; filled with bitter matcha tea that Izuna hated but the other two love.

At the corner of the office, somewhat hidden by the shadows, the cooling body of their clan head was situated, its empty, bloody, eye sockets staring stupidly at the ceiling. The hole on its chest and the cut on its throat continues to spurt blood once in a while, but the three brothers turned a blind eye to it. There were more important matters to attend to, after all.

Madara had summoned his two younger brothers immediately after performing _the deed_. After dryly telling the two how _sad_ Madara was to inform them of Tajima _unfortunate_ demise, he laid out his plans and placed a scroll in the middle of the table.

It was a hit list.

Izuna suddenly set his tea bowl down with more force than necessary, lips pursed as he stared straight into Madara's visible eye, "Are you sure about this, aniki?"

The eldest hid his smile behind his own tea bowl, approval glinting in his eyes at the wariness in his little brother's tone. A healthy dose of paranoia and doubt, even towards family, was needed for a shinobi to reach the retirement age.

"Hn," Madara grunted, refilling his tea bowl with the calmness that did not match the topic of their discussion.

"... We've only _just_ exterminated the infestation in our backyard, retrieved all of our kidnapped clansmen from those fucking bloodline thieves, and _wiped_ the clan responsible for that incident. Things are moving too fast for me, aniki. I want to ask _'why now?_ ', but I have a feeling that I'll dislike your damn answer."

Izuna groaned, fingers already rubbing circles on his temples, no doubt experiencing a Madara-induced migraine. Poor Izu. Madara sympathetically patted his brother's shoulder, which earned him a glare. He helplessly retrieved his hand and went back to sipping his tea.

"You're getting old if you can't even keep up with this, nii-san. _I_ find Madara-ani's scheming to be particularly inspiring. I am in complete awe, anija," Ryouta praised, a 'kindly' smile playing on his lips. And although his tone and expression were gentle, the sadistic glint in his eyes betrayed his true feelings, "But can I suggest adding a few more names into the hit list?"

"Absolutely not!" Izuna slammed a hand on the tabletop, annoyance and irritation making his untied hair puff out like a cat's, "A venture to fucking _purge_ _a quarter of our clan_ is more than enough to disorganize the regime! Adding anyone else into the already bleak picture will only cause unnecessary chaos!"

Ryouta ignored the outburst to unroll the scroll that was filled with names, Sharingan activated to memorize its contents, "Must you always be so _dramatic_ , Zuzu? I'm just saying that the fighting will never cease if we do not _thoroughly_ do pest control. Our father's generation and the one before his, even now, continues to spread their toxic _traditions_ to our younger clansmen. It's hideous."

"Stopping the cycle of hatred is important, yes. That, I wholly agree with, otouto. _However_!" Here, Izuna leaned forwards with his chin resting on his interlocked fingers, appearing highly jaded, "There must be better alternatives. Ridding anymore than what aniki has written would give us a shortage of HR. It would not look good in the records."

"Don't be silly, nii-san. History is written by the victors. Why would we ever deliberately put covert operations into the archives?"

"This is more than a covert operation, Ryouta. It's a revolt." Izuna's eyes flickered to the corpse in the room, sneering at the body, "And how are we going to cover _that_ up?"

"I'm sure anija has already thought of that." Ryouta waved away Izuna's concern. And it was true, anyway. Madara wouldn't move his hand if he hadn't covered all his holes, "Anyway, it'll only be a revolt if we say it's a revolt on the papers."

"We should not be falsifying anything. Records are there for a purpose. Mostly for our descendants to not repeat the mistakes of their ancestors-"

"Madara-ani's reign will be viewed as bloody if we document _everything_ , nii-san," Ryouta interrupted with a growl, sulkily chewing on a rice cracker, "Besides, we can't tamper with official documents if there are _none_ in the first place."

Izuna and Ryouta held eye contact, both expressionless. This lasted for quite some time, with Madara only looking on rather than interfering.

He normally would've spoken up by now and told them that he didn't mind being viewed as a tyrant ( _he had been abandoned by his clan once, a second time wouldn't matter_ ), but he wanted to see their genuine response without him as the mediator.

Izuna would soon become the clan head after Konohagakure was formed, with Ryouta by his side as his right-hand, so Madara needed the reassurance that his brothers could keep the clan and Village safe without him there to hold their hand.

"Fair enough," Izuna retrieved his tea bowl and took a sip, never once removing his eyes from Ryouta's, "We'll compromise, then."

"Thank you, nii-san," Ryouta smiled before turning away from Izuna to peer at Madara, eyes holding a certain softness that he had to look away from, "A fire?"

"Hn. An accident during training - one katon too much. Unfortunately, the flames spread to the archives, burning down this month's written records." Izuna sighed whilst refilling their tea bowls for them.

Madara nodded his thanks and continues to sip on his tea. It seems that he didn't have to worry about them after he leaves to hunt Zetsu down. Ryouta and Izuna might clash at times, but they would no doubt bring the Uchiha to new heights.

"Alright, back to the subject at hand. We need a way to avoid internal strife. If our movements are visible, the other clans would take advantage of our infighting," Izuna drawled.

"When have I ever said that this will become a _civil war_? It's only a coup d'état," Ryouta waved off.

Izuna facepalmed, "Isn't that the same thing?"

"Obviously no."

"Oh ho? Then, please, kindly elaborate what you mean by that," Izuna's tone was as dry as the weather in Suna.

Ryouta sighed, more for dramatics than anything else, "Dara-ani must be shaking his head at your lack of brain cells, nii-san. His lessons have been all for naught. How pitiful it is to be the stupid brother in our family."

Izuna glared dangerously when Madara began chuckling at Ryouta's barbed comments. He always did get a good laugh at Izuna's expense - no matter how mean that sounded. Perhaps Ryouta got his sadistic streak from him, hm?

It was only when the poor victim of Ryouta's bullying elbowed him in the ribs did Madara half-heartedly mumble a deny about the rude remark made at Izuna's intelligence. Both his younger brothers seem to not believe him, so Madara went back to drinking his tea.

Ryouta continued smugly, "It's really simple, nii-san; we'll split up and **discreetly** remove all these nuisances within a _single night_." Here, Ryouta waved the scroll in Izuna face, causing the latter to swat Ryouta's hand away in annoyance, "By sunrise, Madara-ani will be clan head and nobody can oppose the decision. Since, you know, the oppositions would be dead by then. Hence, there won't be a war. Only a _subtle_ takeover. The other clans won't know anything if we do crowd control _before_ the crowd loses control."

"There is absolutely _nothing_ subtle about this operation," Izuna went back to rubbing his temples, "This sounds like a fucking headache."

"It sounds like fun." Ryouta went back to sipping his tea, completely content with the idea of murdering en masse.

"No, no. Not fun at all. We're _killing_ our _relatives_ , Ryouta. No matter how shitty they are, they're still our kin," Izuna slapped the back of Ryouta's head, causing the latter to accidentally snort his tea, much to Madara's amusement.

The eldest Uchiha brother finally spoke up after Ryouta's coughing subsided, voice thick with humor, "Better parricide than genocide, right?"

Izuna groaned louder whilst Ryouta chortled.

"Hn. Alright, enough messing around. Go arm yourselves, boys. As soon as I'm done with putting the twins to bed, _we'll dispose of the garbage that is clogging our compound with their stench."_

All three Uchiha had their Sharingan activated, bloodthirsty grins dripping with malice.

In this life, Madara would not give any leeway for any toxic mentality to seep into the minds of the future generation. Another coup shan't happen in the future, and the Uchiha would remain loyal to Konoha. Even if he had to kill innocents from the family of those _traditionalists,_ he would make it happen.

Children under three would be spared since they were still malleable and resilient enough to drill the 'Will of Fire' into them. But for those older than that... Madara could only compartmentalize, knowing that his punishment came in the form of a red moon and neverending nightmares.

* * *

"I'm counting on you, Toboe." Madara pressed a loving kiss to the albino hawk's head, earning a trill in response. The bird of prey gave a playful tug at a lock of Madara's long hair, before, with a beat of his powerful wings, flew into the air in a burst of speed.

Madara waited until his feathery companion's silhouette was long gone before he returned to the compound.

The walk back to his house was filled with wary and fearful gazes, his clansmen all moving to avoid him; as if he was carrying a deadly plague on his body. His relationship with his clan had always been strained due to his abnormal strength, but over the years, they had lightened up considerably (especially the civilians, who had not seen him in action before).

Now, however... The memories of his past life in Konoha were constantly overlapping with the present. He made sure his expression was masked by indifference, not wanting anyone to see how badly their change of attitude affected him.

It has been a long time since he receives such cold treatment from his clan, and his chest throbbed painfully despite how mentally and emotionally prepared he had been for this.

The kind old lady who would previously call out to him and hands him fresh fruit and vegetables now and then was carefully avoiding his eye.

( _"Madara-sama! Please wait, Madara-sama!" Old lady Miyako smiles pleasantly at him as she approaches with hurried steps, in her hands was a basket full of fruits and vegetables, "Thank you for all your hard work today, Madara-sama. This is a small token of appreciation for all you have done for us."_

 _"Your gratitude is more than enough, Miyako-san." Madara tries to refuse. He knew that these were difficult times since this harvest was not as plentiful as last season's._

 _"Please, this is the least I could do for you. You are far too thin," She pushes the basket into his hands. He could've dodged, but her arms were trembling at their hefty weight, so he didn't._

 _"... Thank you." His lips curved into a small smile, not minding how she then began to fuss over his hair like a mother cat grooming her youngling._ )

The small boy who frequently toddles after him like a duckling, with his mother looking on with exasperated fondness and apology, was now being pushed behind said mother just as Madara walked by, her expression of fear as she hushed her son made his eyes heat up.

( _"Da-shama, Da-shama! Wai' fo' Mi-kun!" Kagami's hands were outstretched as he toddled after Madara, his slightly curled hair bouncing with every step he took._

 _Madara couldn't help but slow to a stop, allowing the three-year-old to grab onto his pants and bunch the fabric into his tiny fists. The boy then gave him a gummy grin, reminding him so much of his little brothers that his lips curved into a small, fond smile all on its own._

 _"What is it, Kagami-chan?" He placed a glove-clad hand on the boy's head, idly wondering if the boy's father was a non-Uchiha as he twirled a lock of curly hair around his finger._

 _"Upsie! Upsie! Da-shama!" The boy demanded cutely. Before Madara could act upon said demand, far too used to the twins', a woman rushed to them and swooped Kagami into her arms, bowing profusely to Madara._

 _"I-I'm so sorry, Madara-sama! I looked away for one second and Kagami ended up troubling you again."_

 _Madara waved her apologies away before raising a brow in silent query. She was adept in Uchiha-speak, so without a single word, she handed the toddler to Madara, who settled Kagami on a hip._

 _"Can I expect him back by dinner, Madara-sama?" Kagami's mother smiled sheepishly as she twirled a lock of hair around her forefinger._

 _Madara nodded before he jumped onto the rooftops, content when he heard Kagami's gleeful whooping at the rush of wind and adrenaline. By the end of their activity, Kagami's hair was poofier than Madara's, the toddler's gummy grin reaching from ear to ear._ )

The young couple who had asked him to ' _please name our child, Madara-sama_ ' retreated into their home with a bundle in the woman's arms the second they saw him down the street. They now probably regretted using the name Madara chose for their daughter.

( _Madara was taking a walk around the compound with Izuna, talking in whispers to not be overheard by their clansmen. Just as they were about to leave their clan's market place, Madara heard his name being called. They turned to face the caller, blinking when they saw that it was a man with an arm wrapped around the waist of a woman, who was carrying a newborn babe._

 _Madara recognizes them as everyday passerbys, but their name was completely lost to him. It was Izuna who came to the rescue, ever the social butterfly. They traded greetings and small talk, with Madara remaining silent and nodding once in a while before the couple finally deemed it safe enough to state their purpose._

 _"It's like this, Madara-sama..." The woman smiled, the corner of her eyes crinkled in a show of happiness, "We were hoping you would name our child and give her your blessing. It would be the utmost honor."_

 _Madara expression was blank._ _It took him a few moments for him to process their words, but after he did, he swallowed inaudibly._

 _He knew that it was Uchiha tradition to go to their clan head and/or heir and get their blessing. This practice allowed for the leaders to remember all of their clansmen, as the Sharingan would never allow them to forget any of their kin. It was similar to citizenship if he needed to explain this tradition to outsiders since, in this time period, they lacked cameras._

 _But because of Tajima's cold personality and Madara's unapproachable aura, the job tended to fall onto Izuna's lap._

 _This was the first time someone has approached for_ Madara's _blessing. And a naming, as well._

 _It was a weird feeling. But it was a good sort of weird._

 _At Izuna's nudge, Madara nodded hesitantly. The couple smiled wider, happy that he accepted their request._ )

It didn't matter who, understandably, _nobody_ wanted to associate themselves with a person who could kill his own kin in cold blood. Even if Hashirama were to accept Madara's cruel nature, the Senju Elders would _never_ accept his offer of an alliance if word got out that Madara murdered Tajima to become clan head.

However, Madara has always been someone who looks at the big picture and schemes for the long run, along with designing contingency plans for his contingency plans. He had already made arrangments to steer the rumors into a more acceptable territory ( _that way, the other clans would not refuse to join Konoha because they fear Madara's brutality_ ).

This was where Hikari came into the picture. The child she was carrying, Izuna would spread the word that he had caught Tajima and Hikari in a compromising situation. The result was Madara's wrath and Hikari's pregnancy.

It would be more bearable of a rumor for a son to kill their father because said father had an affair with the son's wife. It would, no doubt, bring humiliation to both Madara's and Hikari's marriage situation, but it was better than Madara being labeled a power-hungry madman.

Back-stabbers were feared in the world of shinobi. And all for the wrong reasons. They were, after all, ticking time-bombs.

As for the unborn child in Hikari's womb... Madara would not claim it as his. He would accept it as a younger sibling, but nothing else. This would also protect the child from being the main target of oppositions from both inside and outside the clan.

Being known as Madara's sibling was much better than the alternative. _No matter what_ , he would not allow anyone to call it ' _the child of_ _that_ _tyrant_ '.

Madara closes his eyes, physically blocking out the sight of his clansmen's frightened gazes, and inhaled deeply. He compartmentalizes the feelings of hopelessness, despair, loss, grief, and many other negative emotions he was currently experiencing, and slowly, the constricting in his chest grew dull.

He was fine.

He was alright.

He was Uchiha fucking Madara.

And he would not be defeated by such things.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Woah. More worldbuilding as soon as I returned (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ). Hoorah. Feel my sarcasm.

Anyway, I hope this wasn't a boring chapter for you guys! I'm really sorry to have gone MIA. It slipped my mind to inform the readers that I would be going to a rural area for my placement (⋟﹏⋞). Meaning; shitty internet, disgusting phone reception, and a shortage of libraries. I had a blast, though. The country air had been good to my smoker lungs.

 **P.S.** I, kinda, wrote a new story during my placement. It's an Obito time travel fic with soulmates added into the equation. You guys interested? The pairing is ObiTobi Hahahahahaa~ (´∀`)


	21. Chapter 21

The sound of beating wings and a familiar, sharp cry made Itama turn his head towards the noise, his heterochromic eyes gleamed with excitement when he recognizes the bird of prey, a white colored red-tail hawk by the name of Toboe, hovering outside his window.

One second, he was _meditating_ ( _dozing off_ ) on his futon, and the next, he was by the window and extending an arm for the hawk to perch on. Toboe obeyed the unspoken command, looking mighty regal while at it.

If Itama had not been viciously _trained_ by Dara since he was nine-years-old, he would've winced when the exceptionally sharp talons dug deep into his flesh and drew blood. But because he was far too used to pain, he only smiled lovingly.

"Hello there, Toboe. Shishou truly takes good care of his birds. What soft and beautiful feathers you have," Itama cooed, stroking the hawk's breast feathers and smiling when Toboe puffed out his chest at the praise.

When he found a small note wrapped around Toboe's left leg, so tiny that he almost missed it if he had not specifically looked for it, he gently retrieves it. Resting a hip against the side of the wooden desk Hashi-nii had made for him, Itama skillfully unraveled the note with one hand, not at all surprised to see a small storage seal drawn onto the paper.

Toboe, after all, wouldn't be able to carry anything bulky into the Senju compound without drawing eyes to it. Dara, ever the paranoid shinobi, would always cover his tracks in a very thorough manner ( _though why he uses a_ white _hawk as a messenger made no sense to Itama. The bird was highly conspicuous_ ).

This particular seal, though seemingly harmless, was anything but.

It was keyed to only Dara's and Itama's chakra signature. If anyone else tries their luck, it would self-destruct ( _as expected of his shishou, the collateral damage was_ vicious). Itama had seen the aftermath of _that_ particular incident, causing his wariness to double whenever he sees Tobi-nii or Uzumaki-hime with their sealing supplies.

Anyway, without further ado, he places the small seal on his table and inserted a sliver of his chakra into the paper. Two envelopes and a simple box were unsealed. Itama gently maneuvers Toboe onto his shoulder - ignoring the way Toboe immediately began to preen his two-toned hair - and reached first for the envelope that had his name on it.

Inside was a letter ( _if it could be called that_ ). Written in a familiar, neat, and cursive script.

* * *

 _Tama,_

 _Hand the other envelope to your iceberg of a brother. If you dare take a peek, I'll break all your bones._

 _The box is yours. Belated happy birthday, brat. Use it well._

 _Dara_

 _P.S. Heard you've been naughty. I do hope that you've gotten rid of all the evidence - I would be disappointed otherwise, do. shi. rou. to._

* * *

"I wouldn't make sure an amateurish mistake anymore, shishou!" Itama whined, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled in fondness. Having known his shishou for so long, it was always amusing to see how prickly Dara was on the outside, but awkwardly sweet on the inside.

After sliding the other envelope into his pocket with plans of passing it to its intended after dinner, slightly curious about its contents but not suicidal enough to peek ( _shishou has, in fact, broken a total of 184 of Itama's bones in one sitting before_ ), Itama turned his attention to the inconspicuous box.

Filled with anticipation, he lifted the lid and peered eagerly into the box. Inside was a pair of gloves, an exact copy of Dara's, but dark green in color. Itama hugged the present to his chest and ran circles around his room, squealing his joy. His shishou was the _best_!

He has always been complaining about how envious he was of Dara's handmade, long-lasting gloves. Itama's own pair would constantly become unusable after a week of wearing them ( _they were hard to keep intact after punching through so many obstacles_ ).

As expected, his gift was meticulously made with kevlar fabric on the palms' side and smooth leather on the outside. On the inside, silk threads were knitted in specific patterns to form the inner layer of the glove; as if they were many tiny seals ( _far too complex for him to figure out_ ) woven covertly.

He knows that he should get a seal master like his awesome Tobi-nii to look at it before wearing anything potentially dangerous, but Itama trusts his shishou _with his_ _life_.

With a grin that stretches from ear to ear, he slipped them onto his hands, marveling at how they hugged his fingers comfortably. The size was _perfect_.

Just as he was about to hide the box inside his wardrobe, the door to his room was boisterously slammed open. The culprit dashed inside and grabbed his glove-clad hands, tears in his eyes and full-on pouty lips being shoved into Itama's face.

"Itamaaaaaa~!" Kawarama cried, looking amusingly pathetic as he sobbed with snot and tears running down his face. _What a sight._ Itama bit his bottom lip, furiously resisting the urge to laugh.

"W-what is it, Kawa-nii?" His voice wobbled, pitched higher than he would've liked thanks to the laughter that was bubbling in his chest. He cleared his throat and gave a comforting smile to cover his slip.

Kawarama - _bless his oblivious heart_ \- sniffled and remained clueless to Itama's _sadistic_ joy at seeing his brother's miserable, crying face. It was not as if he dislikes his brother that he takes delight in seeing such a sight - _no_ , it was actually the opposite.

Itama simply has a perverted preference for seeing the ghastly faces of the people he loves suffer from the stupidity they caused themselves. Probably influenced by Dara-shishou and his need to embarrass his own little brothers ( _Izuna_ _the most, from what Itama makes out of Dara's sadistic ramblings_ ).

Itama swears he was a good person. He simply has a tendency to laugh discreetly at the face of another person's misery, finding tremendous joy whenever someone else suffers _(it was only fair they did since Itama suffers_ immensely _from Dara's weekly training sessions from hell_ ). That was all.

"Tobirama took away my stash!" The sixteen-year-old hiccuped unsightly, "You have to help me get it back, Itama! He only listens to you."

Itama, with great difficulty, focuses on Kawa-nii's words rather than his blotched and swollen, crying face. He then blinked when he fully processes the meaning behind his brother's request.

To the best of his knowledge, only Hashi-nii kept a _secret_ stash of alcohol in his room ( _which Itama occasionally pinches and then pushes all responsibility to Tobi-nii whenever Hashi-nii discovers a few missing bottles_ ). But that was besides the point.

The point was that Tobi-nii has a habit of threatening without real intentions behind them, but for him to _actually_ do the deed... Kawa-nii must've completely _pissed_ their older brother off.

"What did you do?" He asked curiously, already planning to use this as future blackmail material if opportunity calls for it.

Since young, Dara has been drilling such concepts into Itama's head; to keep every and all information on hand, no matter how insignificant it may seem at that point in time, until there was further use for it in the future.

"... N-nothing important," The scarred teen murmured while avoiding eye contact. Itama raises a doubtful brow at the obvious lie.

"Clearly it is. Tobi-nii wouldn't do something so drastic without a valid cause."

"You're playing favorites, Itama! I didn't do anything wrong - Tobirama _overreacted_! He not only took my stash, but he also made his water dragon _eat_ me! Eat. Me. I am traumatized for life, Itama! _For Life_!"

Rolling his eyes at his brother's dramatics, Itama retrieves his hands and folded his arms over his chest. His voice was as dry as Dara's when unimpressed, "I'm not. And everyone knows that Tobi-nii is much too mature to do something so childish without prior provocation. That means the problem lies with you, Kawa-nii."

" _Uuughhh_! Stop being so logical, Itama..."

"Well?"

 _"..._ _Ok,_ fine. I _may or may not_ have accidentally misplaced his sword," Kawarama harrumphed, crossing his arms and stomping his feet childishly. Sometimes, Itama questions if _he_ was the older brother in their relationship.

"Alright... I can see Tobi-nii getting angry with you if you did misplace his sword. Which one is it?"

"... The red one." Kawarama whispered miserably.

"How are you still _alive_?!" Itama gaped, disbelief was written all over his face.

Tobi-nii was _highly_ possessive of his scrolls, books, and weapons. But that red one was _especially special_ to the pale Senju. The particular katana that had been lovingly named Akabane had been a present from Dara-shishou.

From what shishou has told him, that katana was acquired from the Land of Iron - after the Uchiha had successfully assassinated a high ranking samurai, he took the man's sword as a trophy, before gifting it to Tobii-nii when the Senju lamented about the lack of good swords.

Presently, Tobi-nii wields some kind of lightning sword that Itama suspects was the latest invention of his. However, he still favors Akabane - whetting it almost _obsessively_ after every mission. Itama suspects that that was because Tobi-nii likes _likes_ Dara-shishou despite the man's constant denials.

He looked at the scarred teen with pity in his eyes.

Poor Kawa-nii would've had his hands seared and his head piked if he was anyone _but_ Tobi-nii's younger brother. And if Kawa-nii continues to swagger around without apologizing for his blunder, Tobi-nii would continue to find new ways to torment him.

Not that Itama would clue his oblivious big brother on the right thing to do ( _for now_ ). Tobi-nii has always been creative; and watching the ongoing process of how his favorite brother makes Kawa-nii flails stupidly about would be an extremely entertaining pastime.

"Forget retrieving your stash, Kawa-nii. Just be glad that you're still alive," Itama patted his brother's shoulder in mock sympathy.

"No!" Kawarama cried while stomping his feet, looking ready to throw a massive tantrum that could be on par with Hashi-nii's, "It's just a stupid katana, anyway. He can always get a new one! I don't know why he got so angry and threw all my _herbs_... He's so petty and mean... Why did he have to overreact when he's usually so emotionless, anyway?!"

He was just about to _subtly_ ridicule his brother for his naiveness, but when he heard Kawa-nii call Tobi-nii _petty_ , _mean_ , and _emotionless_ ; Itama immediately narrowed his eyes, anger making him purse his lips.

 _Sage_ , he loves Kawarama, he truly does, but his idiot of an older brother could be an insensitive, childish, _bastard_ sometimes. Just because Tobi-nii appeared aloof did not mean he lacked emotions - he simply has trouble _showing_ his affections.

( _Furthermore, Tobi-nii was Itama's favorite brother. If Itama ever hears anyone talk shit about him, be they Hashii-nii or Kawa-nii, Itama would make sure they_ suffer _. And he was even a hundred percent sure that Dara-shishou would help him plan his revenge._ )

Itama immediately made plans to drop by Tobi-nii's room and assure his second older brother that Dara-shishou would understand that it was not his fault for losing his gift. Although Tobi-nii was a rational and clinical man, every time Dara came into the picture, the older Senju tends to lose quite the large number of brain cells.

As for this infuriating _punk_ who was talking shit about his favorite brother... Itama was tempted to punch him. Alas, he has more important matters to attend to right now ( _he could always_ discipline _Kawarama another time_ ).

"If that is all... Leave. _I'm busy_." Itama waved his brother off, not wanting to _actually_ kill Kawa-nii despite the latter's spoiled and rotten attitude. Again, Itama reminds himself that he dearly loves all his big brothers, no matter how dumb they acted at times.

"Eh? Busy with what? You're always sleeping in Tobirama's office or the infirmary. Hell, I even saw you napping with your eyes open in the council meeting just yesterday! Other than sleep, what else do you do? I've never seen you train, too."

... He really felt like punching his brother ( _even if it was true, he didn't have to say it in such a_ _way! If Dara-shishou had overheard, Itama would get a few bones broken in the name of keeping his healing skills sharp!_ ). But. _Not now_. He needed to check up on Tobi-nii. Prioritizing was an essential skill for any medic-nins.

"I'm busy every day; _breathing_ ," Itama stated drily, ignoring his brother's unattractive gaping at his ridiculous excuse. He blames Dara-shishou for that. The Uchiha was a bad influence.

Without another word, he pushes Kawarama out of his room, ignoring the teen's flailing, "I'm ignoring you until you _do Tobi-nii right_. And if I hear that you still haven't done so by the end of this week... _I'll punch you_!"

Kawarama instantly blanched at the _very real_ threat to his life. The last person Itama had rained punches on, the bloke was left in the medical wing for a month, _in a coma_.

Although Itama was not as strong as his three older brothers in combat and his chakra reserves less than theirs, his chakra control was _perfect_. That meant that with the help of his ( _shishou's_ ) technique of imbuing chakra into his muscles, it allowed for him to have _monstrous_ strength.

Kawarama would've shrugged off the threat if Itama had been younger, but after mastering all of shishou's medical techniques and forming the Strength of a Hundred Seal, a punch of his could even topple a hill.

Who cares if he couldn't create a ridiculously titanic, many-handed wooden statue like Hashi-nii or a torrent of boiling water dragons like Tobi-nii or even a house-sized earth golem like Kawa-nii? Itama, with only a fist, could cause an earthquake that could potentially wipe the whole Senju compound ( _and more_ ) off the map if he releases the years of accumulated chakra sealed on his forehead.

Hence, without prompt, Kawarama fled the scene after squeaking out a promise that he would do as Itama says.

With a roll of his heterochromic eyes, he turned to Toboe, who was preening his white feathers without a care in the world. What easy existence birds have.

"You're welcome to stay for however long you want, Toboe."

Itama stroked the hawk's head for a few moments before he left his room.

Perhaps Tobi-nii would cheer up after receiving a letter from Dara-shishou. He couldn't help but pat himself in the back for being such a good person.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _Doshirouto_ means 'big amateur'. To tell you the truth, I got this nickname from the manga "Seiyuu Ka-!" (*＾∀゜).

In my head-canon, the people born during the Warring Clans Period are definitely _abnormal_. Despite Itama saying that he has low chakra reserves and combat skills compared to his brothers... He should've compared himself to the more average shinobi, ya know? His feat might pale in comparison to his elder brothers, but to others... hahaha... Itama is definitely a monster.

Hashirama, Madara, Izuna, and Tobirama are the more extreme cases, but other than them, I believe that those who fought in the same battlefield as those four are nothing to sneeze at, too. That means; I wouldn't dare to underestimate their younger brothers. _If_ they have had the chance to grow, I reckon that they would have turned into dangerous, renowned shinobi (｡-∀-)... Though I am very apologetic to Tsunade for letting Itama take her role as _THE_ legendary medic.

Anyway, what do you guys think about Itama's POV? I tried to make him as angelic as possible, but that's hard with Madara influence over the kid ( _eh, how old is Itama again...? 15? Yeah, about there_ ). Poor Tobirama is still angsting about his baby brother's loss of innocence.

 **P.S.** Shameless advertising: I uploaded yet _another_ time travel fic. You can go to my profile and check it out if you're interested (*´∀｀*).


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning: Possible trigger warning for panic attacks and suicide ideation.**

* * *

Izuna had been acting oddly as of three days ago, despondent and full of worry.

It had started shortly after Madara brought up the matter about writing an armistice to send to the Senju during the meeting with his newly established council. As they had _all_ been in agreement that day, Izuna's abrupt change of behavior was highly suspicious.

On the outside, Madara feigns ignorance. However, whenever Izuna looks away, Madara would scrutinize him with sharp and attentive eyes that flicker crimson ever so often.

Today, only the two of them were present for dinner, as Hikari was under 'room arrest', Ryouta was away on an important mission, and the twins were on patrol duty with Hikaku and his team as official tagalongs; novice soldiers ( _genin_ ) that were ordered to observe and learn rather than to actively participate.

Since they were alone, it was as good a time as any to confront this odd behavior of Izuna's.

Removing all outward traces of worry and concern as to prevent clueing Izuna of anything, Madara set his chopsticks aside and cleared his throat. Izuna turned his attention to him not a second later, his little brother's pools of onyx eyes unusually flat despite the curious quirk of his eyebrow and the soft smile playing on his lips.

It was _unnerving_.

Izuna was emotive and tends to split his lips into a playful grin or a smug smirk. Never a soft smile. Not without reason, at least.

The _nauseating familiarity_ made Madara nervous. And no matter how much he tries to clear his mind to start his questioning, the anxiety was clawing up his throat and causing his lungs to constrict painfully. Forget speaking, he felt it hard to even _breath_.

What if-

( _"You can't trust them, aniki," His remaining little brother whispers into his ear, his voice as sweet as honey and his face devoid of any emotions even if his lips were curled into a soft smile._

 _Madara allows Izuna to wrap his slender, calloused hands around his glove-clad ones, tenderly prying the quill he was clutching against his chest and taking away the missive Hashirama had sent - words of an alliance and peace between their clans - and the unfinished reply he had been writing up until a second ago._

 _"But..." He tries to explain to his brother that Hashirama was not a liar, that he could be trusted to stay true to his words, that his dream was to stop this pointless war between their clans; just like Madara's - but Izuna was already shaking his head, the grip on his hands tightened to an almost painful degree._

 _"No, aniki. You can't trust him. His words are all too good to be true. He will bring the Uchiha clan to ruins. You can't accept this alliance, aniki. Please. Trust me. I only want to protect you and do best for the clan. Don't you trust me?"_

 _There was a moment of silence. And then there was a soft exhale, full of resigned acceptance and_ _dolefulness._

 _"... Ok. I won't. I trust you, Izuna."_

 _"Thank you. I assure you that your trust is not misplaced. I love you, aniki," His little brother crooned, lips lingering on Madara's cheek as arms snaked loosely around his waist, thumbs rubbing ticklish circles onto his hips._

 _He should've felt warm at his brother's show of affection. But all he felt was a chilling sensation crawling up his spine. He felt an_ _incredulous urge_ _to push Izuna away, but at the same time, why would he want to do that to his remaining family member?_

 _This was Izuna. His beloved younger brother. A person who would never betray him. A person who looks at him and see Madara as a human, not a monster._

 _So he ignores his instincts and returns his brother's affection, hugging back and burrowing his face into Izuna's shoulder to hide the sorrow and unease he was feeling. He didn't miss how the shadows flickered in his peripherals, causing his gut to clench in anxiety.)_

No. _No_.

Madara has been alert, _hypervigilant_ even, for any unwanted shadows that might lurk in their house, in the Uchiha compound. There have been no sightings of Dokuzetsu even till now. _But_ what if that entity had slipped through his defenses - his seals, his chakra pulses, his five senses? It has always been sly and stealthy in its deceit.

"Aniki?"

His throat tightened and his eyes stung from the many memories of how _oddly_ Izuna had acted prior to his little brother's death. In the way Izuna would smile so _softly_ , of how his eyes were always so _empty_ , of how his touches would linger so affectionately that they became _chilling_ -

"Ani-"

His fists were clenched tightly to prevent any outward signs of his unease, head bowed forward to create shadows to hide his blanched face from view.

Madara recalls _every_ _single_ _image, sound, and action with_ _perfect clarity_ thanks to the properties of his Sharingan and his inborn eidetic memory. It didn't help that the majority of those recollections were distressing; as he often uses his clan's dojutsu for damning purposes.

"-ni _ki_?"

He didn't realize he was hyperventilating, bordering on hysteria _and someone was touching his shoulder and everything felt like it was too much stop touching him don'ttouchhimhecan'tbreathe -_

Madara slammed his palms against the table and pushes himself to his feet, away from those _lingering touches_ and away from the cause of his anxiety. He might have or might have not excused himself properly, but he couldn't focus enough to recall his words or actions as he retreated into his room and crawled pathetically into his wardrobe.

It was foolish to think himself safe just by hiding in such a place. But. _But_.

Madara scrunches his crimson eyes shut, covers his head with his arms, and subtracts seven from a thousand and continues even as he fades in and out of consciousness.

"One t... thousa... nd... minus se... ve _n... Nine hun_... dred... and... ninet... ty three... _m... mi... m_ inus s... seven... Ni... ne... hundr... dred an... and eig _ht... ty s... six.._.-"

This was all he could do to prevent himself from slipping _away_ from reality. Not yet. Not yet. _Not yet_. He has far too much at stake to succumb to his shortcomings. He can't. _Not yet_.

* * *

Izuna slammed his forehead against the tabletop and viciously scolded himself for how _stupid_ he had acted. He then glared at his hand, furious that it had betrayed him. If Ryouta had been here, his younger brother would've bitch-slapped him until his face was swollen like a pig's, all the while calling him all sorts of synonyms for _idiot_.

Not that he didn't deserve to be scolded by the mother hen of their family.

It was shinobi rule 101 to withhold any outside stimuli when someone was experiencing a panic attack as they could react violently ( _especially if that someone was of Madara's_ _calibre_ ). But, _fuck_ , it had been too painful for Izuna to just sit back and watch as his invincible, unrivaled big brother choke on his breath from a past memory that was, without a doubt, traumatizing.

( _What had triggered it? Had it been something he said? Something he did?_ )

With worry and concern bubbling inside his chest, he suppresses his chakra and silently ran to Madara's bedroom. His hand was hovering hesitatingly over the handle of the door, knowing that Madara has meticulously drawn protective seals inside his room that would no doubt _cripple_ anyone whose chakra signature wasn't registered into the wards.

From his knowledge, those seals had been pretty recent ( _after that bitch had gotten pregnant_ ). And Izuna hasn't been to Madara's room since then. However, when he recalls the sheer distress in Madara's dazed eyes, Izuna scowls at his own cowardice.

Fuck it.

He would take the risk.

Although he didn't know how to exactly provide comfort, Izuna would _learn_ , dammit. He would not leave Madara alone at such a time ( _even though it was unlikely, he hopes that Madara has cooled down and was already fine, not needing clumsy Izuna for comfort)_.

With determination in his eyes, he carefully slid the door open.

The second he planted his feet into the room, it was as if he had just passed through a bubble of sorts. The surrounding sounds disappeared instantaneously as if he had just entered a sound barrier.

When he heard a soft _thump_ from inside the wardrobe, he tilted his head in confusion, scanning the furniture with wary eyes before he shook his head and went back to searching the bedroom for his big brother ( _now was not the time for Izuna to be curious about the skeletons Madara have hidden in his closet_ ).

When he found no one, Izuna turned on his heels and prepared to leave the room, intending to search the whole house if needed. However, this time, it wasn't just a _thump_ he heard coming from the wardrobe; there was suddenly muffled sounds as well.

It was then did his brain connect the dots.

His blood turned cold at the chilling realization that it was _Madara_ who was letting out such distressing sounds. For someone like _Madara_ to find a sense of safety inside a wardrobe - just like how Takumi found safety in Izuna's futon whenever there was a lightweight storm - was unsettling.

The shock, however, soon turned into protective fury. It spreads from his chest, down his limbs, and Izuna felt a burn in his eyes; the Sharingan spinning to life as his jaws clenched painfully, the veins on his neck bulging.

Izuna has always presumed that Madara has _impeccable_ _mental strength,_ as Madara had never _truly_ broken down in front of him before. Madara was always so strong in front of Izuna and the rest of their younger brothers, always looking unfazed by their world's evils.

The masks he wore completely fooled Izuna, causing him to overlook the burdens and trauma his older brother must be carrying on his shoulders, always suffering in silence. Now he knew better.

He shouldn't have trusted his brother's lame, " _I'm fine"_ s; especially after a confrontation with that bitch Hikari or after Tajima's cruel words and painful abuse - he stupidly believed that _nothing_ could faze his astounding big brother that was Uchiha fucking Madara.

But he should've known better than to allow hero-worship to blind him to this extent. Ryouta was right; why was Izuna so fucking _stupid_? Madara, despite everything, was still _human_ , for Sage's sake! Why did he forget that crucial fact?!

He had known ever since he was sent to the frontlines by Tajima that Madara had suffered considerably; enough for the average shinobi to _break_. And the signs, fucking _Sage_ , the _obvious_ signs; the lack of sleep, the lack of appetite, the sheer _exhaustion_ etched onto his features, the refusal to use healing jutsu on himself, the unhealthy fixation to compartmentalize and train and train _and train_ -

Izuna couldn't help the loathing he feels for his pathetic self at ignoring how sickly Madara's mental health was.

He stood frozen with his head bowed in front of the wardrobe, unmoving as he anxiously listens to the muffled sobs and rasps subtractions. He didn't know how to proceed with this. He had been trained to _kill_ , to _survive_ , to _follow orders_ \- he had not been trained to offer someone solace.

Ryouta was usually the one who takes care of everyone when Madara was indisposed or on a mission or at the frontlines.

Izuna was terrified right now. He was scared to fuck up. What if with his presence, Madara's mind broke further? From prior observations, the trigger was somehow linked to him. He didn't want to take such a risk, no matter how painful it was for him to stand here and _do nothing_.

Madara was too important to him - to all his little brothers. Izuna would not be able to forgive himself if his stupidity causes Madara more misery. He could only leave it to Madara to overcome this by himself. Izuna would, however, remain here _just in case._

Ryouta had told him, once upon a time, that Madara had taught him a method to counter torture and/or interrogation ( _to calm down from a panic attack_ ). In order to keep sane, in order to stay mentally strong and wait for reinforcements to show; subtracting numbers was a way to keep a person's mind from being consumed by despair.

It kept the mind thinking, _distracted_ , but never far from reality.

( _"Anija said that if my mind ever takes a nosedive to_ escape _reality, it would be best to contemplate suicide since I would be near my breaking point, and thus, will be as_ _malleable as sheeps awaiting slaughter_ _. Anija says that the best time to brainwash someone is when they're on_ _the borders of despair. Do you want to learn, nii-san? The best method to control someone is to use the darkness in their hearts - and if there is none, anija said that I'll just have to make it. By then, I'll have loyal minions under my command._ _Anija was even kind enough to give me a couple of subjects to experiment on before we shipped them off. It just proves how fragile t_ _he human mind is."_

 _Izuna wisely kept his silence, sweating heavily when Ryouta began laughing wickedly, '_ kufufufufu _'s leaving his lips._ _Izuna just patted his not-so-innocent little brother on the head before finding an excuse to change topics._ )

For Madara to resort to such a method, Izuna trembled - from rage or distress, he didn't know.

 _Had Madara been tortured before? Had Madara been held captive before? Had Madara experienced such despair before that he created such a technique to prevent himself from falling into insanity?_

Many such questions were revolving inside his head. However, the one that stood out was; _when_ had such a likely scenario happen?

Ryouta had been taught this technique when Madara was still a teenager - still in the midst of _puberty._

And that realization was _nauseating_.

Had it been Tajima all along? Had their former clan head abused Madara, physically, emotionally, and mentally, to such an extent? And if so, why had he not told Izuna anything? Did Madara not trust him to bear such a burden with him? Or was it because Madara lacks self-care?

Madara, as Ryouta and Izuna have noted, tended to forget that he, too, needed to eat, to sleep, to care for his health just as much as he cares for his little brother's.

It showed just how _incompetent_ Izuna was at protecting his beloved older brother.

And Izuna being Izuna, was not good at taking care of someone - it has always been Madara who was their rock, the person who raised them, who glues them together, who keeps them safe from their nightmares and their _fucker_ of a father ( _he wishes he knew a jutsu to revive the dead; just so he could kill that bastard again_ ).

With clenched fists, nails biting harshly into his palms and teeth sinking deep into the flesh of his bottom lip, he ignores the welling blood and places his forehead on the wardrobe's door, angry and hateful tears rolling down his cheeks as his Sharingan continues to spin and spin and spin _and spin_ -

* * *

Madara pretended that yesterday did not happen and all was well.

Come dawn, after he woke up from a restless sleep inside his wardrobe, he cleaned himself _thoroughly_ and left his bedroom with his usual expression of indifference, clad in his typical attire that - with the exception of his face - showed no visible parts of his skin.

And if his hair was covering more of his face, shadowing the exhaustion from being seen, well, his untamable mane performs such feats on its own sometimes.

"You're up early, otouto," Madara moved past Izuna and sat on his usual zabuton at the kitchen table. The younger Uchiha only looked at him with bleary eyes, as if not yet awake enough to do anything but blink.

Seeing that the sun has only just begun to rise, Madara had been prepared to wait for hours for Izuna to wake up. But to his surprise, Izuna - a person who prefers to sleep in - was already awake and the table set, the food still warm. As soon as Madara took his seat, Izuna automatically and absent-mindedly pours a cup of tea for him.

"Thank you," He murmured with a smile, albeit faintly.

"Hn," Izuna grunted, yawning not a second later.

Directly after Madara began to eat ( _the food tasted like ash on his tongue and bile at the back of his throat_ ), his little brother lethargically made a grab for his chopsticks and immediately started to shovel rice into his mouth after he manages to hold the wooden utensils properly.

It was their family tradition, of sorts, that his little brothers would only eat _after_ Madara has taken a bite. And it was Ryouta who had started such a practice. Izuna went along with it after much grumbling, whilst the twins grew up thinking this was normal.

At that time, Madara had just looked at Ryouta with unconcealed pride at his little brother's devious manipulation, knowing that Madara's primary weakness was his brothers - the loveable brat had found a way to force Madara to eat without actually acting upon the desire.

( _"We won't eat until_ you _eat, anija," Ryouta didn't even bat an eyelash as he slapped the chopsticks out of Izuna's hand, ignoring the outraged cries their middle brother let loose at his_ _audacity._

 _"What the fuck, Ryouta?!"_

 _"Quiet, nii-san. The adults are having an important discussion right now."_

 _And much to Madara's amusement, Izuna looked ready to jump across the table and strangle Ryouta with his bare hands._

 _"Who the fuck are you calling a kid you cocknose motherfucking ass badgering fuckwit of a fuckbucket cunt shithouse-"_

 _Madara truly wishes to know who the fuck taught Izuna such words so he could kill that knobheaded bastard with a dessert spoon._

 _The youngest at the table ignored Izuna's amazing repertoire of cusses to turn to the eldest, a shrewd glint appearing in those pair of onyx eyes, contradicting much with his gentle expression._

 _"_ _What are you waiting for, anija? You better eat if you don't want us to starve. I don't care even if it's a small portion - I want you to eat before you collapse."_

 _Izuna scrunches up his nose, "We're playing chicken with aniki now? Oh, great." Turning to Madara, Izuna was quick to push his chopsticks into his older brother's glove-clad hands, "Hurry up, aniki. I wouldn't put it past Ryou-teme to actually starve_ ore-sama _to death. Our oh so 'adorable' otouto doesn't give two shits about me, after all."_

 _Madara only huffed out a chuckle, amused at Izuna's grumbling and Ryouta's smug smile. With eyes filled with admiration, he brought the rice to his lips and finally ate after a few days of refusal_. _Surprisingly enough, he was able to taste the flavor of the food and not blood or ash on his tongue.)_

It started from that day forth, and this tradition was viciously enforced by Ryouta. Izuna may whine at times, but in the end, even when Ryouta was not home, he would follow the 'rule' and glare at Madara until the older Uchiha ate. The twins followed their examples like ducks to water.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the nostalgic memory, Madara discreetly scrutinizes the younger Uchiha, his eyebrows furrowing in worry at what he saw.

Izuna appeared worn out, his skin color a shade paler than normal and there were even stress lines between his eyebrows. For someone who cares religiously about his own appearance, his little brother seemed to have changed overnight, his hair was disheveled and he looked as if he had a terrible burden placed upon his shoulders.

Madara did not like it, not one bit.

Izuna was _not_ supposed to be like Madara; always withdrawn, constantly exhausted, and consistently dour. Izuna was supposed to be his opposite; always grinning, always playful, always filled with energy and cheer. Madara was unable to accept this sudden change of demeanor.

So Madara became the first to break this unsettling silence, his voice conveying his concern even if his face was impassive, "What has your head in the clouds, otouto? You are not usually this quiet. Should I be worried?"

Izuna was too much of a shinobi to flinch, but Madara did catch the telltales of surprise and unease; as if Izuna was caught off guard by his question or was uncomfortable with Madara's penetrative eyes that were digging holes into the side of his face.

"'m just tired is all, aniki," The younger Uchiha avoided Madara's gaze by focusing on his breakfast, that nerve-racking soft smile making its appearance once again, "What with all the damage control and public relations that I'm doing."

There was an offer to shoulder those burdens for him on the tip of Madara's tongue, hating that his reformation of the clan was affecting his brother's sleeping schedule, but before those words could leave his lips, he swallowed them down. It wouldn't do to continue babying Izuna despite how much Madara wants to.

Izuna was already eighteen, going nineteen years old. Not to mention that he was an outstanding shinobi who holds the title of the Uchiha clan's heir. Madara should not interfere unless the younger Uchiha asks him for help, nor should he take back the tasks he had assigned to Izuna - tasks that played to his younger brother's strength, at that.

His offer would only insinuate that his brilliant younger brother has no ability to handle clan matters. It would be insulting for both of them if he proposed such a thing.

"Are they going well?" Was what he decided on. Perhaps Izuna had encountered a difficult problem, hence all the brooding. Madara wouldn't mind giving out a few bits of advice if that was the case.

"No complications as of late. Although tension is still running high and everyone is fearful after losing so many of our clansmen in one night... don't worry, aniki, I'm working on it."

"Hn. Is there no other issues to report?"

"Well, our civilians are beginning to get restless. It's been quite some time since we've put the whole compound on lockdown, aniki. I think we'll need to give them some kind of news or time duration, or they'll likely start finding ways to avoid the patrols just to get some fresh air."

Madara placed an elbow on the table and rested his cheek on a fist, brows furrowed as he listens to Izuna's report. The reason for why the Uchiha compound was currently on lockdown mode was because Madara wanted to prevent _leaks_. News of the Uchiha clan undergoing a reform would bring danger to their doors.

Although Madara was confident that he could repel even a battalion, he did not want to risk the lives of his people since there would no doubt be collateral damages.

"Announce that the gates will be open within a week from tomorrow. That should be enough time to tie up any loose ends. What of our soldiers? Do you believe that they will engage in mutiny?

Izuna has long set his chopsticks aside, now rubbing his chin in thought.

"This may come to a surprise to you, aniki, but the younger soldiers all _worship_ the fucking ground you walk on, _no joke_. I know this because we often go out for drinks whenever we can afford to - _and I forbid you from drinking with them, aniki. They're dangerous... for many reasons that I won't elaborate_ \- they seriously look up to you. Especially after you've pulled out those who are below fourteen from the frontlines and allocated them to the mission roster rather than the army.

As for the majority of the older soldiers, they are wary. They revere your strength, but at the same time, they fear you would turn such power against them. They wouldn't stand a chance. Again, I'm still working on changing their opinions, but to answer your question... The chances of an uprising are low."

Madara, whilst looking at his little brother as if he was crazy, wonders if he should really trust Izuna's judgment on this.

He earnestly doubts that any of his clansmen ' _worship_ ' Madara for being _Madara._ The proof of how disliked he was were the streets of their compound. The crowd would always part as if his body contains a plague and people would begin whispering behind their hands as he walks by - and as of late, they would even avoid his gaze.

Deciding that he would give his younger brother the benefit of the doubt ( _a very, very minuscule amount_ ), he slowly nodded.

"Anything else to report about?"

"Yeah. A few more."

"Are any of them urgent?"

"No, not really. Just fucking annoying."

"Hn. Then just place them on my desk."

Unexpectedly, Izuna suddenly raises a hand and rubbed at his face angrily ( _once again, there was that_ damnable _soft smile on his face_ ). Madara quirks a brow, tilting his head to the side in askance.

"Izuna...?"

"Is it ok if I just give verbal reports for now, aniki? I'm kinda tight with my schedule right now. I don't have the time."

All expression fled from Madara's face, and his body language showed that he had distanced himself from the overly indulgent big brother persona of his. Izuna seemed to straighten his spine, probably shooked by the abrupt change in demeanor, and lowered his eyes, as if not daring to look Madara in the eye.

 _Guilt. Nervousness. Stress. Unease. Indecision._

Those were the emotions Madara could pick out from Izuna's body language alone.

No matter how much of an exceptional shinobi Izuna was, Madara has _decades_ worth of experience on him. Apart from the bijuus and the summon bosses, Madara was, mentally, one of the oldest living beings on this planet ( _even older than Kakuzu_ ).

Furrowing his brows - _Madara compartmentalizes to ensure that he would not have a repeat of yesterday_ \- he activates his Sharingan, unwilling to miss out on any subconscious tells Izuna would let out as he _probes_ his younger brother for answers.

His paranoia of Zetsu possessing Izuna was debilitating, therefore he would keep those feelings in a tight box in his mind and push it into a corner for now.

"What are you hiding from me, Izuna?"

 _A barely visible scrunching of the nose, the slight quickening of his breath, the increase of heartbeat, and the way his muscles bunched up - as if wanting to escape._

The harsh beating of Izuna's pulse was almost deafening in this silence.

After five minutes without a response, Madara stood up ( _ignoring the way the younger Uchiha flinches_ ), circled around the table, and reached out to pinch Izuna's chin, forcing his brother to look him in the eye. Izuna looked as if he wanted to turn his eyes away from Madara's fully matured Sharingan, but fortunately, he didn't.

Madara would've _truly_ lost his temper if he did.

"Is this about the treaty?"

Izuna's lips were repeatedly opening and closing as if he wanted to speak, but was too nervous to actually do so. However, he didn't _need_ to. With the help of his Sharingan, it was easy for Madara to discern a person's response in a closed-ended question. Micro-expressions, eye movements, and body language were telling.

Izuna's answer was a _no_. But Madara didn't allow himself to feel relief just yet. He needed to probe deeper. So he shot question after question without waiting for Izuna to verbalize his responses.

"Are you distrustful of the Senju?"

 _Yes_.

"Do you believe that they would not uphold their part of the agreement after an alliance is signed?"

 _Yes_.

"Is it due to your hatred for them?"

 _No_.

"Is it because you are wary of them?"

 _Yes_.

"Was your vote to an armistice with the Senju influenced by another's?"

 _Yes._

"Is that person on the council?"

 _Yes._

"One of the elders?"

 _No._

"One of my advisors?"

 _No._

"Me?"

 _Yes._

"Have you been hearing any voices in your head as of late?"

 _No_.

"Other than my eyes, have you had the feeling of being watched as of late?"

 _Yes_.

"Is it inside the compound?"

 _No._

"Is it during missions?"

 _Yes._

"Have you seen any dark, humanoid shadows flickering just at your peripherals?"

 _Yes._

"Is it during missions?"

 _Yes_.

"Does it happen inside the compound?"

 _No_.

"Does this worry you?"

 _Yes_.

"Is that shadow the reason why you have been acting out of it starting from three days ago?"

 _No_.

"Is it about the tasks I have assigned you?"

 _No_.

"Is your change of behavior due to a clan matter?"

 _No_.

"Is your change of behavior due to a family matter?"

 _No_.

"Is your change of behavior due to a personal problem?"

 _Yes._

Madara releases his grip on Izuna's chin and returned to his seat across from his brother. His tea has long gone cold, but with a simple manipulation of his chakra, he heated the liquid and brought the cup to his lips. Izuna was giving him a kicked puppy look with a mixture of bafflement.

It was cute.

Turning away from Izuna, Madara concentrated on the bitter taste of his matcha tea whilst pondering on the answers he has received.

From the short interrogation, he has concluded that Izuna has not been influenced by Dokuzetsu ( _thank the Sage_ ).

The shadow sightings were troubling... However, the seal Madara has sneakily placed on all of his little brothers seemed to be working properly. It was a seal to prevent mental intrusions, inked just at the base of their head, out of sight and covered by their thick mop of hair.

For the short term, whilst he was busy with figuring out which plan he should use to lure out Dokuzetsu, he would assign Izuna more duties that could be completed within the compound. The twins, as well, since they were more vulnerable than anyone else in his family.

Dokuzetsu's plans were usually distasteful ( _like Madara's_ ), so it was rather easy for him to place himself in that entity's shoes.

If he was Dokuzetsu, killing the twins and pinning their deaths on the Senju would definitely be the go-to option. It would be too easy to hire some random, no-name shinobi mercenaries, get them to wear the Senju headband, and give them intel to plan a successful ambush on the twins.

The alliance would be shredded even before it could blossom.

Madara would also be susceptible to manipulate if he was blinded by anger, grief, and hatred.

As for Ryouta... Well, there was no need to worry about Ryouta.

"Aniki...?"

At Izuna's tentative call, Madara set aside his cup and gave his attention to the younger Uchiha.

"What is it?"

Izuna studied him for a moment, and after confirming that Madara was back to normal, he slouched forward and dropped his elbows loudly on the table. Izuna didn't even bother to hide his sigh of relief as he wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his kimono.

"What was that about, aniki?"

"... You worried me."

He decided to be ( _somewhat_ ) honest.

Madara felt extremely bad for using such an intimidating method to scare the answers out of Izuna. But he also felt that it had been a necessity. He dared not take any chances when Izuna fell into such a familiar pattern. After all, he has already lost Izuna to Dokuzetsu's plots before.

When Izuna only looked away, his hair shadowing his features, Madara drooped.

"I'm sorry, Izuna. I didn't mean to frighten you."

This time, it was Izuna who stands abruptly to circle the table and drop to his knees in front of Madara.

Before he could react, Izuna wrapped his arms around Madara's shoulders and nuzzled against his chest. Madara didn't hesitate to pull Izuna closer, burying his nose into Izuna's hair and closing his eyes as he inhales his brother's comforting scent.

"Baka aniki. You should've just told me that from the beginning. I hid my problem 'cause I didn't want to upset you. If I knew you would react so negatively, I wouldn't have done something so fucking counterproductive. I'm sorry, aniki. Just... Next time... Just tell me, ok?"

"Nn," Madara's lips curved into a smile, relieved that Izuna wasn't upset with him. It would be devastating if Izuna started to fear him.

"Do you trust me?"

( _"Don't you trust me?"_ )

Madara scrunches his nose at the sudden appearance of that memory.

He hated how this would occur sometimes. His mind would play tricks on him, forcing him to hear voices that were long gone or from another lifetime. This would happen whenever he lets his guard down, the memories of his past life would haunt him, just like how the red moon constantly hangs over his head.

Barely batting an eyelid, he stuffs the memory into his mental box that contains most of his darkness.

"Of course I do."

"Then... can we talk about what happened yesterday?"

Madara tightened his arms around his precious little brother, voice soft as he responded, "Another day, otouto. Another day."

"Ok. I won't force you, aniki. But, just remember... I'll always be here if you need me. Whenever. Day or night. Okay?" Madara nodded, patting the Uchiha heir's back twice before letting go. The brothers separated from their hug, but Izuna did not move far. He sat back on his haunches, narrowing his eyes at his clan head. "You questioned about hearing voices, being watched, and shadows. How did you know I've been feeling eyes on me and seeing shadows?"

Madara's face was impassive, giving nothing away, "How long have they been going on for?"

Izuna pouted, "You can't answer a question with another question, aniki!"

"I just did," He drawled.

"Tch," Grumpily crossing his arms, Izuna clicks his tongue, "It's been about a month since I've felt eyes on me. The shadows, however, was only once. During my last mission outside the compound. Now can you answer my question?"

"Hn. I see. Tell me, Izuna, why have you been behaving oddly over the past three days?"

" _What the fucking_ _Sage_ , aniki. Seriously?" When Madara blinked his eyes innocently, Izuna threw his hands into the air and groaned, "I'm so telling Ryouta on you! He'll continue to pester you until you answer all our questions!"

The older of the duo only smirked, causing Izuna to grit his teeth at how _infuriatingly_ smug it looked. It took a few moments to pacify Izuna enough for his little brother to wind down, but after he did, Izuna went back to being nervous.

"You know how I de-stress, right?"

"Drinking alcohol and visiting prostitutes. Yes, I know." Madara answered frankly, not caring to sugarcoat his words since Takumi and Yakumi weren't here. Izuna, on the other hand, choked, looking at Madara in horror.

"I visit prostitutes to gather intel, aniki! _Intel_!" Izuna all but shrieked, cheeks and ears aflamed as he covered his face with his hands, looking beyond mortified.

"Mhm. If you say so," Madara calmly takes a sip of his tea to prevent himself from cooing at his younger brother's sheer adorableness.

As soon as Izuna was calm enough to talk without exploding into a bundle of embarrassment, he poured himself a cup of tea before continuing, "There's this pub I visit whenever I go out to have a drink. I met someone there."

That made Madara's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline.

"You have a lover?"

Izuna was quick to wave his hand back and forth as if he was shooing off a fly, voice extremely dry, "No. We're not in a romantic relationship. She has a partner."

"Get to the point, Izuna."

"Ok, just. Let me... ugh _fuck._ "

Izuna raked a hand through his hair in agitation, clearly trying to find the right words to describe their relationship. Madara was extremely curious. If they weren't lovers, then it should be friends, no? What was so hard about admitting to that?

"I, uhm, I get invited into their bed a lot."

Madara did a spit take.

Izuna, completely unprepared for that response, was drenched from head to toe in matcha tea. The two brothers stared at each other in silence, equally too shocked to do anything but that. As soon as Madara regained his bearings, however, he quickly set his cup aside and began to apologetically wipe his younger brother's face with the sleeve of his mantle.

"That..." Madara hesitated, unsure of how to ask his question. And frankly, it was downright embarrassing to have such a conversation with his younger brother, "You're a grown man, Izuna. I don't wish to tell you what to do and what not to do. However, do you think it is wise to have an affair with both parties? Or to partake in _homewrecking_?" He could see how this would affect Izuna's behavior if that were the case.

"No, no, aniki! You got it wrong!" Izuna quickly denies, half-heartedly swatting at his brother's hovering hands to keep them away from his face, "They're in an open relationship." At the utterly confused expression on Madara's face, Izuna kindly elaborated, "The both of them gave each other the ok to have sex with another person. So it's not considered cheating. Because when I'm having sex with one of them, the other is there too - either to watch or to participate in a threesome. And I don't mind either way 'cause I kind of like being watched when I fuck someone and it feels good... so..."

By the end of Izuna's short explanation, Madara's face was hot enough to cook eggs on ( _he did not need to know that Izuna was into exhibitionism, thank you very much!_ ). Despite being over a century old, Madara was something of a prude. Or rather, due to his avoidance with anything sexual, he was oblivious to such matters. So it was a shock for him to hear that such a relationship could exist.

He knew of men having concubines and multiple wives, of threesomes and foursomes and how many other _somes_ , but even then, it was frowned upon to engage in adultery. To have sexual relationships after vowing to stay faithful. Hence, it was completely unexpected for Madara to hear that this couple Izuna was acquainted with went ahead and sought other people to be their bedmate.

He felt that his understanding of human relationships was inadequate when compared to his sybarite of a little brother. And as if his brain was malfunctioning, the image of Tobirama suddenly appeared, a smirk playing on the albino's lips as the Senju laughs at his naivety-

"O-oh," He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable, "I suppose it's alright if it's consensual... _It is_ consensual, right?"

"Yeah. All three of us agreed to it verbally. And I even told them that at any time they wish for me to stop touching their partner, I would back the fuck off." Izuna reassures, his eyes softening slightly as he gazes at his fidgeting older brother.

"Alright. I understand. What I don't understand is the connection between your odd behavior and your sexual endeavors?"

Izuna laughed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "I kinda knocked them up."

 _What_.

"I beg your pardon?" All his embarrassment fled at the face of _sheer disbelief_ , "Did I hear you just say you've _impregnated_ someone?"

"Two someones, actually," His idiot of a little brother corrected needlessly.

 _What_.

"What?" He deadpanned out loud.

"The couple that I've told you about...? They're both women. So... Yeah... _Pleasedon'tbemadanddon'tkillme_?" Izuna's voice trailed off into a meek squeak.

"Uchiha Izuna," Madara scowled, his baritone stern and chiding, "What did I say about the art of bastard breeding?"

"Not to?" Izuna laughed sheepishly.

"And you went ahead and _mastered_ it anyway. Wow. Amazing."

The sarcasm made Izuna wince.

The older Uchiha suddenly smiled.

The younger Uchiha blanched and broke out in cold sweat at that smile.

"Uhm, aniki? You're giving out Ryouta-vibes."

"Uchiha Izuna. You have three seconds to come up with a satisfactory reason for me not to disembowel you. 3."

"B-Because you love me...?"

Izuna cautiously pushes himself to his feet, onyx eyes flicking about as he calculated the best escape route to use.

"2."

Madara's onyx eyes had a deadly glint to them.

"1."

Izuna bolted out of the house as if the devil was at his heels; which was somewhat true as, not a second later, Madara was chasing after him with a chopstick in hand, brandished like a weapon, and yelling obscenities that would make even a sailor blush.

As soon as he catches that _fucking brat,_ Madara would hang him by his toes and give a five-hour lecture about safe sex.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I'm glad that many of you did enjoy Itama's POV (´∀`)! Hehehe. All of those comments made me really happy. As a result, I've actually prepared a whole chapter dedicated to Itama's training. Are you guys interested in reading about the suffering Itama will have to endure in the hands of our sadistic Uchiha patriarch ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ?

Now then... I'm proud to announce that Chapter 22 is officially the end of the first arc of The Moon is White. **The Konoha Arc commences the next chapter.** I can't thank you enough for all of the support you, my dear readers, have given me m(；∇；)m. Seriously, without all of your feedback and encouragements, I would have never gotten this far. So, really, thank you (ღ˘⌣˘ღ). To show my gratitude, I made this chapter extra long _and pumped them full with feels and silliness_ *⌒ヾ(-ε・*)

* * *

Current age of the main casts:

Madara and Hashirama are both 21  
Tobirama is 20  
Izuna is 19  
Ryouta and Kawarama are both 16  
Itama is 15  
Takumi and Yakumi are both 10

The ages are not _wholly_ accurate. I've calculated the events by the year rather than the months. So, _technically_ , Madara hasn't _actually_ reached 21 years old because his birthday is on the 24th of December, which means he's 20.5 years old right now? Hahaha (ﾉ≧ڡ≦).

 _ **Madara's recap of the events thus far:**_

Died, woke up, and activated his new body's Mangekyō due to the bombardment of traumatic memories.  
Age 5 - Ryouta's birth.  
Age 6 - Began collecting and indoctrinating pawns. Began training carrier pigeons. Began making discreet and deliberate changes to improve the Uchiha clan's quality of life.  
Age 8 - Started low-key conditioning his younger brothers to distance themselves from their parents. Inculcate clan loyalty and ideas of peace to younger brothers.  
Age 10 - Established a spy network.  
Age 11 - Become acquainted with Tobirama. Takumi and Yakumi's birth.  
Age 13 - Saw Hashirama for the first time. Izuna's first time at the frontlines against the Senju.  
Age 15 - Saved Itama and became his shishou. Began Ryouta's T&I training.  
Age 17 - Arranged marriage. Gave Tobirama his facial tattoos.  
Age 18 - Became acquainted with Hashirama at Sora-ku.  
Age 20 - Talked to Hikari about cohabitation. Hikari's betrayal. Butsuma's death.  
Age 21 - Killed Tajima. Purged 1/4 of the clan. Reformed the council. Enacted new regulations and policies and discarded many outdated traditions and laws. Made preparations to form an alliance with the Senju. Found out that Izuna has mastered the art of bastard breeding.

End of 'Childhood' Arc.

 **P.S.** I'm taking a vote! Tell me, my dear readers: **Would you prefer Madara to have a _daughter_ or a _son_?** Don't worry about this affecting the plot╭( ･ㅂ･)و!

 **P.P.S.** Idk why my plot-bunnies inserted a lot of babies into this fic when I don't know a single thing about raising children ┐( -"-)┌


	23. Chapter 23

Madara, with his chin tilted arrogantly upwards and his arms crossed domineeringly on his chest, stood in front of the Senju compound gates, Izuna to his right and Hikaku his left.

A delegation of a few handpicked council members and elite guards stood behind him as they all waited for the Senju to open their gates. One of his kin wore a navy blue sashimono with the Uchiwa fan and _Envoy_ sewed on it, a sign to prove their identity and show their intentions.

It was... a peculiar feeling for Madara to be the one who extends an olive branch for a cease-fire between their clans.

Then-Hashirama used to be the one who screamed about peace as they fought, sending missive after missive persistently. Now, it was the other way around ( _without the screaming and persistence as only one letter was enough for Hashirama to agree to a meeting_ ). Madara would've laughed out loud if he wasn't so choked with contrite emotions.

Other than that, he was thankful that Tobirama has also agreed, after much insistence on Madara's part, to persuade the Senju clan's council on behalf of his dorky older brother.

As much as Madara trusted Hashirama to fully accept his future offers to an alliance, to build a settlement that would one day become the legendary Konohagakure no Sato, the old fogeys were always the first to oppose and a young Hashirama who has _just_ become the clan head has yet to fully understand how to silence them.

A shrewd politician his once-best friend may grow into one day, but currently, he was only a twenty-one-year-old dreamer, still wet behind the ears to truly understand the vicious yet subtle game called politics. A Tobirama who was not blinded by hatred of all Uchiha-related things was a blessing in disguise.

When the gates of the Senju compound finally opened, revealing one bristling Senju Tobirama standing at the front of five other fully armed Senju soldiers, Madara hid a smug smile behind his high collar, enjoying the way Tobirama's ruby red eyes had narrowed, having seen through Madara's amusement with just that simple action alone.

"State the purpose of your business here, Uchiha."

Tobirama folded his arms over his blue chest plate, fingerpads tapping against a toned bicep in what others might assume to be a sign of impatient displeasure. However, to Madara, it was a message. Their secret code used often across the battlefield to snark and banter during their fathers' boring face-off.

 _Why are you here?! The elders are still persistently oppugnant! Scram! -_ was what Tobirama was trying _futilely_ to drill into Madara's head.

Madara only crinkled his eyes in an innocent manner, taking wicked delight at how Tobirama seethed silently behind his icy exterior, fingers increasing in speed to spew creative insults and cusses, all of which Madara pretended to misinterpret as a sign to say his greetings out loud. Ah, it was always such a pleasure to tease the ever stoic iceberg into losing his composure.

"I am Uchiha Madara, patriarch of the Uchiha clan. These people are from my council. We mean no harm by coming here and only wish to request an audience with Senju Hashirama, patriarch of the Senju clan, and his administrative body."

The Senju squad were all tensed, fingers twitching closer to their weapons when he introduced himself. Madara knew that there were a lot of horror stories linked to his name, hence he took great effort to appear utterly harmless. He was currently free of any weapons or armor, having kept his infamous gunbai in his storage seal before their arrival here.

Although by the look of things, the Senju squad didn't appear to be mollified by his good manners and tact.

What a tough bunch to placate.

Madara didn't allow his amusement to show when all of the Senju, sans Tobirama, flinched when he brought up a hand and gestured at Hikaku.

His military advisor-slash-bodyguard stepped forward with a scroll in hand, unrolled to show that its contents were harmless. He knows that Tobirama wouldn't be able to read the words at such a distance due to his poor eyesight, so he had, prior to their arrival, informed Hikaku to approach until he was about a meter away from Tobirama.

Hikaku had looked nervous at his command back then, but currently, he hid the anxiety at moving closer to the 'White Demon' particularly well. Tobirama's scowl didn't help at all in easing Hikaku's nerves, the angry expression only causing Hikaku to sweat more. The closer Hikaku approaches, the more pressure the Senju squad behind of Tobirama exudes.

It was only when Hikaku was at the specified distance did he stop, the muscles in his legs tensed in preparation to flee at a moment's notice. Everyone noticed the way Tobirama immediately narrowed his already narrow eyes. It made the albino look downright _murderous_ , causing the Uchiha behind of him to shift in place. But Madara knew better - the albino was _squinting_.

It appears that Tobirama was having a difficult time reading the words on the scroll without his glasses on, which annoys the albino to no end. Madara made a mental note to pull his friend aside, later on, to heal the strain Tobirama has no doubt caused when he blatantly ignores Madara's advice to take breaks from paperwork once in a while to not damage his eyesight further.

People with albinism, after all, often have poor vision due to their underdeveloped macula lutea.

The palpable silence was soon broken when Tobirama clicked his tongue in displeasure, causing everyone from both sides to ( _again_ ) reach for their weapons. Madara only smiled in fondness at the petulant ( _to him_ ) display, making sure to hide his expression using the curtains he calls his hair.

"Give it here," Tobirama demanded with an outstretched hand, palm facing upward.

Hikaku hesitated, looking at Madara for direction. At the Uchiha patriarch's nod, Hikaku dropped the scroll onto Tobirama's awaiting palm and swiftly retreated back to Madara's side. As Tobirama went ahead to read the missive, entirely dismissing Hikaku's skittish action, Madara closes his eyes and uses his senses to search for Itama's and Hashirama's chakra signature.

His dual-haired deshi's chakra signature was detected coming from the forest, gradually approaching nearer and nearer by the looks of things. The medic-nin had probably been gathering herbs before he sensed Madara's presence close by and immediately dropped what he was doing to greet him. Such a puppy, Madara mused fondly. And judging by the way Tobirama had subtly tilted his head to Itama's direction, he has noticed as well.

Hashirama, on the other hand, was located at the Senju compound's center, encircled by a group of four. Madara assumes that they were assigned to be the clan head's personal guards since all of their chakra levels were high-jounin if he ranked them using then-Tobirama's shinobi ranking system.

"Kawarama. Notify Hashirama-ani and the council that Uchiha Madara and his entourage will be welcomed temporarily into the Senju compound to discuss an armistice. Afterward, gather a few clansmen to assist in setting up our largest military tent at training ground one. The meeting will commence there."

Madara opens his eyes, an amused smirk tugging on the corners of his lips at Tobirama's unenthusiastic and monotonous order. Kawarama - _the third brother, Madara reminded himself_ \- looked ready to scream out an objection, an angry expression was on his face, full of hostility and scorn for the Uchiha clan.

But one deadly glare from the albino stopped any form of protests from leaving the younger, scarred Senju. Kawarama gritted his teeth, scowled heavily at all of the Uchiha in attendance ( _looking eerily alike Tobirama at that moment_ ), and reluctantly dashed through the gates of the Senju compound to spread the word that Tobirama has accepted a delegation of Uchiha into their home.

"Takayama. Tacoma. Kaima. Alert the security personnel that the Uchiha are non-hostile, but continue to be on stand by and remove all civilians from the streets."

"Understood, Tobirama-sama," Unlike Kawarama, the three other Senju shinobi obeyed without pause. They bowed and dashed through the gates without looking back.

The only ones left were Tobirama and another Senju shinobi to accompany Madara and his clansmen outside the compound gates. Just as the albino swiped a red tongue to wet his rosy lips ( _unintentionally attracting Madara's eyes onto them_ ), parting them to no doubt demand that the Uchiha remain here until all preparations were complete, Itama suddenly shot out from the between the bushes of the forest behind the group of Uchiha.

His men were quick to draw their weapons and form a protective ring around Madara, combative of the unknown threat, but did little else as their leader had brought up a glove-clad hand to halt them from taking further action. Itama froze in his steps, heterochromic eyes, one brown and one red, flickered from one Uchiha to another until they landed on Madara.

If they were back at the creek, Itama would have no doubt rushed to tackle-hug Madara. A warning look from the Uchiha patriarch, however, made the younger shinobi hunch his shoulders meekly and tentatively circle around the group of Uchiha to stand beside his older brother, a basket full of medicinal herbs in his gloved hands.

"Stand down," Madara ordered in his usual baritone, not needing to raise his voice for his men to obey him.

Although his clansmen did sheathe their katanas at his command, they remained tensed, Izuna especially. His brother stayed extra close to him, a scowl on his features. Madara didn't blame him. After all, they were currently inside enemy territory and had been spooked by a random Senju appearing behind of them.

War instincts rebelled for them to cut down Itama and make a tactical retreat to prevent being flanked. Fortunately, everyone Madara had specifically handpicked for today were all smart enough to know not to act recklessly and pointlessly aggravate their hosts. Madara would have their necks if they made the alliance crumble before it could even become an alliance.

"Uchiha Madara," Tobirama called, attracting all eyes on his person, "I would like to have a word with you. _Alone_."

"If you want to speak to our clan head, do it here in the open, _Tobirama_ ," Izuna all but snarled his rival's name, fingers clenched tightly onto one of Madara's billowing sleeve, "You have no right to request something from your betters. Learn your place, Senju _heir_."

"Don't antagonize our host, Izuna." Madara murmured, patted his younger brother's shoulder, and stepped away from his group, "We can talk inside the forest. Lead the way, Senju."

"Aniki..."

"Hush, otouto. I'll be alright. Wait for us to return."

Izuna looked ready to protest, glaring angrily at Tobirama. But he could do nothing else as Madara follows behind the white-haired Senju. It was only when they were at an appropriate distance away, enough to avoid any eavesdroppers and watchers did Tobirama stop and turn to face the Uchiha.

"What are you planning, Madara?" The albino crosses his arms, looking put-off and irritable despite his impressive poker face.

Madara innocently cocks his head to the side, the strands of hair on his face moving to reveal both his mirthful, onyx eyes, "What ever could you possibly mean, your excellency? My intentions for an alliance have been stated quite clearly on the missive."

Tobirama's arms were immediately covered in goosebumps, his cool expression completely morphed into disgust. It was hilarious.

"I'd rather you call me by one of those wretched nicknames than _that_."

"Heh. I knew you were secretly pleased by those pet names, snowflake. What a shy boy you are," Madara smirked slyly, stepping closer to pat his friend's cheek in a patronizing fashion.

If looks could kill, Madara would be dead by how fierce of a glare the Senju was giving him. Fortunately for him, the Senju was not born from a clan that possesses a dojutsu ( _although he wouldn't actually mind sewing the Uchiwa fan on the other man's clothing as, in his head, Tobirama was already considered an honorary Uchiha - his family_ ).

Tobirama's fingers wrapped loftily around his wrist, pulling his hand away from the Senju's cheek but not releasing the limb.

"Enough fooling around. Tell me exactly why you are here, unannounced and ahead of schedule _,_ before I truly lose my temper."

"You are far too stiff, my friend. Not even a greeting? I am disappointed by your lack of manners, Senju," Madara laughed, eyes squinting in mirth, "I assure you that I have no ulterior motives. My affairs have all been concluded earlier than I've originally planned. Therefore, I am only moving my schedule forward. It would be good if our clans could become allies faster, yes?"

Rather than respond to Madara's teasing, Tobirama only sighed and reluctantly accepts his half-arsed excuse - which was a good sign. It shows that Tobirama wasn't actually angry at his unexpected presence.

Inwardly, Madara sighed in relief.

It was all bullshite. What Madara lacked most was _time_.

Even now, he was still trying to schedule a visitation with the two women Izuna had impregnated. Hikari, too, was almost due - meaning Madara still has to find a midwife to help deliver his baby ( _Madara may be somewhat of a medic-nin, but he sure as hell has no experience in delivering a baby. And even if he knew how to, he would never voluntarily_ _assist Hikari in_ anything).

Madara simply didn't want to explain to Tobirama that his instincts have been telling him that if he were to delay his plans any longer, Dokuzetsu would somehow mess _everything_ up with its ploy. His paranoia has heightened considerably and he thought it best to quickly sign an alliance with Hashirama and start building their village before everything could fall apart.

Besides, he did not wish to involve anyone in his ( _one-sided_ ) quest to subdue Dokuzetsu.

"Dara?"

He blinked, not realizing that he had zoned out.

When he raises his eyes ( _stupid Senju and their freakishly tall height)_ , he almost yelped at how close their faces were from each other. As he cleared his throat to cover his undignified reaction, he also took a step back to avoid the Senju's inquiring gaze, feeling the temperature of his cheeks heighten without any particular cause.

Madara contemplates if Ryouta had fed him something undercooked, as his insides were clenching uncomfortably and his heart was palpitating too fast for it to be normal.

He discreetly prods his organs with his chakra. When he detected no abnormalities, he determines that the cause must have been the weather. It was pretty hot out today and Madara often gets a sunburn if he stands out in the sun for long periods of time.

Not wanting the silence to stretch into awkwardness, Madara shrugs off Tobirama's fingers from his wrist and brought his palms to rest against the younger shinobi's temples, green chakra coating his glove-clad hands.

"You've strained your eyes badly, Tobira. Why haven't you gone to Itama to get them looked at?"

"I'm fine."

Despite saying that he was _fine_ , Tobirama still sighed in relief, leaning closer towards Madara as his eyelids fluttered closed, white lashes brushing gently against pale skin. If Izuna had not been blinded by his determination to defeat the albino, his brother would've undoubtedly praised the Senju for his exotic coloring and good looks.

"Indeed, so fine that I can see a migraine building up," Madara rolled his eyes, ignoring how his sarcasm made Tobirama pout, "You need to take better care of your health, Tobira."

"Pot, meet kettle." Tobirama jabs back in a dry tone.

"Who's the one with superior medical knowledge here?"

"I've memorized the entire chemical makeup of the human body down to its gram. Therefore, I know more about the human body than you, Dara."

"You are a scientist whilst I am a surgeon. Know the difference."

"A surgeon of death?" His friend drolled. Madara scoffed, chin tilted upwards in confidence.

"I beg to differ. Itama might need a few more years to surpass me, but right now, I am the best medic-nin _in the world_." Granted that Madara was simply a copy-cat - as all Sharingan users are. "There, all done. How do you feel?"

Before he could remove his hands from his friend's temples, Tobirama raises his own and covers Madara's glove-clad ones, shifting them until he has his palms over the albino's cheeks. When the Senju opens his eyes, there was a light playing within them. It was soft, gentle, and it made Madara's insides feel as if they were being squashed into pulpy jelly.

It was uncomfortable as it was comfortable.

He didn't know what was causing such a phenomenon, but the lazy, half-lidded expression Tobirama currently has on was distracting Madara from forming coherent thoughts. Therefore prohibiting him from exploring the strange feeling radiating from his chest.

"We should head back before Izuna starts thinking that you've somehow killed me," Madara murmured, yet he didn't do anything to shake Tobirama's hands off. He only continues to stare unblinkingly at his friend.

"Mhm."

Although the younger shinobi agreed with him, Tobirama's lashes fluttered closed again and everything _just felt_ _right_. Even Tobirama's angular, sharp features have been softened by this strange atmosphere growing between them. Madara was dazed, _entranced_ by this memorizing sight of his friend's relaxed, indulgently smiling face.

It felt like as if _time_ has stopped for them, the sun's rays aligning just perfectly to brighten the spot they were standing on.

The tranquility, however, was unfortunately shattered when both of them sensed Hikaku's and Itama's chakra signatures approaching them. Feeling slightly reluctant, Madara's glove-clad hands ( _he regrets not taking them off before he started his treatment_ ) lingered on Tobirama's face for a few more moments before they both broke apart and placed themselves in a respectable distance.

Tobirama slid back to looking like an iceberg, all stiff and frosty, whilst Madara was already gloomy, to begin with, hence he didn't need to fix his appearance or body language to show that they weren't close.

"Madara-sama!" Hikaku landed next to him with the grace of a feline, "Izuna requests your return."

"Kawa-nii says that the tent is ready, Tobi-nii," Itama reports as soon as he lands next to his brother.

Despite only being fifteen years old, his droopy-eyed disciple was standing slightly taller than his brother's impressive height of 182cm. It made Madara rue Senju genetics. His cute Tama-bō had turned into a giant, dwarfing Madara's stature of 175cm ( _he scowls at the reminder that he was shorter in this lifetime._ _Madara consoles himself that a_ _t least he was still taller than Izuna by a centimeter, Ryouta by five centimeters, and towers over the twins for now_ ).

"Hn. Are we done here, Senju Tobirama?" Madara lifted his chin in an arrogant manner.

"We are," Tobirama turns to the direction of the Senju compound, "I will escort you and yours to the meeting place now."

Madara wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting the Senju elders. But he was eager to reunite with Hashirama again. It has been far too long since he last conversed with his then best friend.

* * *

 **A/N:**

There we go; some fluffy interaction between Tobirama and Madara as requested by a few readers (`･ω･´)9! It seems that our favorite oblivious Uchiha is _finally_ starting to feel _something_ for his albino friend. Ah, let's see how long it will take for him to figure out that that is 'attraction' and 'affection' he is feeling, ne? (*＾∀゜)

Thank you, everyone, for your lovely reviews! It seriously motivates me (ง •̀ω•́)ง✧! Especially when you all had a good laugh over Izuna's unexpected surprise (Ŏ艸Ŏ).

The only reason why I couldn't update earlier is because I have an assignment due today at midnight! Thankfully, I've just finished it. As soon as I submitted that stressful shitty assignment, I got on to writing this ＼\٩( 'ω' )و /／. Ah, it feels good to write... It really de-stresses me.


	24. Chapter 24

As soon as the contingent of Uchiha has relocated themselves inside the large, military green tent, Madara lowers himself onto a zaisu chair at the only table available, directly across from where Hashirama has already seated himself at. Izuna took a seat not a second later at Madara's right, and Tobirama at Hashirama's left. Itama and Kawarama both stopped outside, probably not a member of the bureaucratic team.

The rest of the Uchiha delegation lined in formal seiza behind of him, whilst the Senju council was already allocated behind their clan head.

Hashirama appeared sprightly, his grin so wide that it was on the verge of splitting his face in half. Madara settles for a smirk as a greeting, knowing that any other expression would make him look deranged or unhinged rather than non-hostile. He wishes he could have a personal chat with Hashirama after this meeting - or maybe during one of their breaks if there was time for it.

The rest of the people here sans Tobirama ( _incredible poker face as always_ ), however, were stiff and looking at each other with explicit wariness.

Poor Izuna appeared ready to bolt to Madara's keen eyes, uncomfortable with the close proximity to the two powerhouses that were Hashirama and Tobirama. Or perhaps it was due to the Senju outnumbering them 1 to 3 inside the tent, not counting the guards situated at the entrance and the _army_ outside.

Madara wanted to wrap his arms around Izuna and soothe his little brother's distress away, but any show of weakness right now was ill adviced. He settles for discreetly placing a hand on his brother's thigh, squeezing it once in an attempt to comfort.

Just when he was about to remove his appendage, Izuna's clammy fingers intertwined with his glove-clad ones. Noticing the nervous twitches, Madara didn't have the heart to pull back despite all logical reasonings ( _his brotherly instincts prohibits him from doing so_ ). He was thankful that the table obstructed any curious eyes from what was happening from the waist down, at the very least.

Madara soon directs his attention to the Senju patriarch.

"I thank you for the warm reception and this prime opportunity of an alliance, Hashirama-dono."

Madara hated formalities. However, at this point in time, it was a necessity.

The Senju elders would nitpick _anything_ to deny them this alliance, hence, they needed to be politically smart in their choice of actions and words. Judging by the grimace on Hashirama's face, the Senju has the same impression. Kind-hearted and easy to forgive Senju Hashirama may be, but a fool he was not.

"It should be I who thank you for proposing a treaty between our clans, Madara-dono," Hashirama says, tone and expression _dripping_ with utmost sincerity, "I, Senju Hashirama, officially commence the Senju-Uchiha Peace Conference with Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, and Uchiha Izuna. Let our clansmen bear witness to our amicable exchange at the prospect of an alliance."

As soon as Hashirama announces the beginning of the conference, Madara cut right to the chase, his tone solemn and profound. Uchiha Madara has never been one to beat around the bush if there was no need to do so.

"I have already prepared a few stipulations beforehand. As it is but a rough draft, any terms you believe that need to be revised can be negotiated."

Hikaku got up and passes around a copy of the bill Madara had written to the rest of the Senju council, lest they bitch about the Uchiha trying to one-up them. Izuna, on the other hand, directly hands Hashirama and Tobirama each a copy of the drafted proposal whilst Madara articulates each term word for word, pausing only when someone asks him to elaborate further on a segment.

The papers they had distributed aren't the actual treaty that the two clans had agreed upon during Madara's first life itself. These documents had a lot of intentional loopholes placed in them, as he plans to steer the Senju council into gradually thinking that they were the ones who would get the better end of the deal.

When Madara's dark pool of eyes met Tobirama's ruby red ones for a split second, his friend nodded discreetly.

They had both discussed and agreed upon the terms of the final treaty - all through letters with Itama acting as their courier.

The draft that Izuna and Hikaku handed out was actually compiled by Tobirama and Madara both, seeing that Tobirama knew more about his clan's council than Madara could ever. They would work together to, slowly but surely, herd the Senju clan into agreeing to what both Madara and Tobirama had agreed upon prior to this meeting.

Initially, Tobirama had been worried about Madara's people kicking up a fuss and ruining their plans, but Madara had assured him, _repetitively_ , that his clansmen would not complicate matters and they should focus more on the Senju elders.

He didn't actually say it, but Madara believes that Tobirama _did_ get the subtle message that Madara wanted their clans' alliance to be concluded _as soon as possible_.

He hopes that they could settle this within a month at the very least ( _no matter how improbable it seems_ ), rather than half a year as they did in his previous life. He didn't have the time to _personally_ attend all the peace talks if it drags on for too long. And although he trusts Izuna and Ryouta to attend them in his place completely, he was a paranoid man, believing that anything that could go wrong would go wrong.

Madara was soon interrupted from his droning ( _narrating the bill unenthusiastically, honestly_ _. Hashirama looked on the verge of falling asleep despite his prior excitement, eyelids drooping at Madara's monotonous_ _recitation. Even Madara himself wanted to sleep from how boring he sounded_ ) when one of the Senju elders began to loudly proclaim his disagreement with more than _three-quarters_ of the terms.

And then someone - _coughIzunacough_ \- from his side decided that it would be a _great_ idea to snidely chide said elder about how uncouth it was to interrupt another person when they were speaking. It didn't take long for the tent _explode_ into discord after that, with everyone trying to out-talk the other.

Majority of the Uchiha had puffed up like disgruntled cats whilst the majority of the Senju had their hackles raised like aggravated dogs, a sign that both parties were trying to instinctively make themselves look larger to intimidate each other. It would have been a highly amusing sight if not the migraine he feels building up behind his eyes.

Madara withheld a sigh.

This was going to be a _long day_.

* * *

Day one of the Senju-Uchiha Peace Conference ended late into the night, with a few breaks in between when the tension ran too high to diffuse. It was agreed that they would continue ' _talking_ ' tomorrow.

Unfortunately enough ( _but entirely speculated_ ), there hadn't been any changes made to the draft itself as, most of the time, the council were squabbling like children rather than negotiating like grown men ( _at least Izuna didn't seem to be nervous anymore, having joined in the 'fun'_ ).

It had been mentally draining, as he needed to remind himself continuously to reign in his KI.

With a tired roll of his shoulders, he and his clansmen followed after a scowling Kawarama who showed them into another training ground, this one with many tents already set up. Madara was led to the biggest one. He muttered a thank you, bid his clansmen good night, and entered it. It was quite unfortunate that he was too exhausted to seek Hashirama out this time.

Laid inside was a simple bedroll made of animal fur. It was good to know that despite the mistrust the Senju hold for the Uchiha, parties who came to negotiate a truce were treated accordingly.

In his previous life, the conference had taken place at the borders between the Uchiha and Senju land, where their respective clans slept in sleeping bags during the freezing night and attended the peace talks under the burning sun. It had been hell.

He buries his face into the bedroll. Madara knows that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight - _what with being inside enemy territory_ \- but he has to try to rest as much as possible. If his mind continues to refuse to unwind after an hour or two, he would cease any futile attempts to sleep and do something more productive; like meditate.

"Aniki? Are you asleep?"

The flap of his tent flutters slightly when Izuna ducks down to enter. Madara grunts to show that he was still awake, though he remains unmoving from his prone position. When he feels his brother sit next to him, he was quick to wiggle closer to the warmth until he has his head nestled on Izuna's lap.

Slender and calloused fingers soon began to run through his long mane, carefully disentangling any knots they find ( _which was a lot_ ). Madara almost melted into a puddle of goo at the blissful scratches to his scalp, eyelids fluttering to a close at the relaxing stimuli.

If he was a cat, he would be purring.

"What's your opinion on how the meeting went? Will this attempt at peace be a wasted effort?" Izuna murmurs, soft enough to not startle Madara out from his relaxation. He hums to buy some time for his lazy thoughts to gather.

"Deeply unimpressed. However, I have already foreseen such a result. It will take time, but I assure you that I will only show my hand once I've drawn the royal flush. Trust me, Izuna - Takumi, Yakumi, and our unborn children will not have the threat of war destroy their childhood. They won't be forced onto the battlefield like us."

"We made no progress, though." Izuna pointed out.

"It is only the first day." Madara counters.

"If you say so..."

"Stay the night?"

"Ok. But don't expect me to get any sleep when we're surrounded by Senju." His brother grumbled petulantly.

Madara only patted the younger Uchiha's knee in wordless gratitude. The two Uchiha brothers soon fell into a comfortable silence, with Izuna's fingers continuing their soothing ministrations. It didn't take long for Madara to doze off, feeling safe and content with Izuna here with him.

It was hours later did he blink awake, having sensed Itama's chakra signature at the edges of the training ground, flaring ever so slightly that it would alert sensitive sensors. One look at Izuna was enough to see that despite his little brother's proclamation that he would get no sleep, he was out like a light, drooling even.

Madara gently bundles his adorable little brother into a burrito tight enough that it would take some time to escape from, before slipping out of his tent and carefully sneaked behind his stupidly tall disciple.

"What are you doing here?"

Itama's two-colored hair whipped about his forehead when he snapped his neck to face him so fast Madara was afraid that the Senju would have a spinal dislocation. Instead of wincing at the sudden creak of bones, Itama beamed and bounced closer until they were standing only an arm's length from each other.

"Dara-shishou! I'm sorry if I woke you up..." Itama trailed off with a sheepish grin.

"It's fine. What are you doing here?" He repeated his question, hands wrapped around his biceps in an effort to keep warm, "It would be unwise for us to be seen together. I am the Uchiha patriarch right now, not your elegant shishou."

"Ehh... But Dara-shishou punches like a gorilla, is violent like a hurricane, and thunderous like a sailor. Elegant isn't exactly the word I would choose to describe my shishou. Ah, but Dara-shishou is very attractive, so it's ok even if you're temperamental. Good-looking people get a pass no matter what they do and how they act."

Madara felt his right eye twitch _violently_.

Truthfully, over the years, he has already come into terms with his disciple's foot-in-the-mouth careless commentaries ( _usually directed at Hashirama or Kawarama_ ). He was even often entertained by the hilariously, insulting opinions Itama has to say about everything and anything.

However, at times like this, when such barbed words were pointed at him, he feels the metaphorical arrows brutally stab him through his gut and the urge to vomit blood intensify.

Itama only continues to smile brightly, his droopy eyes making him appear unimpeachable. Evidently, the Senju has failed to realize that he has, _yet again_ , just straight-up insulted Madara's _everything,_ from his personality to his characteristic. Not to mention the ambiguous compliment (more like a _backhanded_ insult).

Madara tightened his fingers around his biceps to prevent them from ' _accidentally_ ' breaking the brat's skull. It wouldn't do to brain his not-so-cute-anymore teenage student. Tobirama would be a nightmare to deal with if Itama returns home with blood-caked hair.

"What are you doing here, brat? I won't ask again." He gritted out.

"Oh, right!" His idiot disciple exclaims softly, plopping a fist on a palm as if he has just remembered the purpose of his visit. Madara couldn't help it. He facepalms. "Toboe came with a letter. Since you're here, I think it's from one of your brothers - I didn't look inside, honest!"

Itama was quick to add that he hadn't looked at the contents as he hands Madara the tiny scroll, sweating nervously. Squinting his eyes dubiously at the taller shinobi just to play on the brat's nerves and make the skunk-haired Senju sweat a little, he only decides to unroll the scroll after a full minute has passed.

His lips quirked upwards when he hears a sigh of relief. Revenge sure was sweet, no matter how petty.

The second his eyes landed on the words written on the tiny scroll, however, he lost all amusement.

"Itama," He began, his hard tone making Itama stand at attention, "I need you to escort me to your gates."

"Wha- Shishou...? Are you leaving? What about the conference tomorrow?" Itama bites his bottom lip worriedly.

"I'm urgently needed elsewhere."

Madara wraps his fingers around Itama's wrist and tugged him hurriedly towards the general direction of the Senju compound gates, lips pursed in displeasure. He didn't want to leave Izuna alone on a diplomatic assignment without Ryouta there to reign him in, but he was out of options. He _needed_ Ryouta to continue protecting the Uchiha compound in their absence.

Hopefully, Tobirama would pick up Madara's slack and not taunt his little brother into a bristling ball of anger.

"Hand this scroll to Izuna - _you know who that is, right? Good. He's currently sleeping at my tent_ \- and relay that I will be expecting him back home in two week's time _by the latest_. And inform Tobirama of my departure. Tell him that something came up and I won't be readily available for an undetermined period of time. If you understand, repeat what I just said."

"Pass the scroll to Izuna-san, tell him that you want him home in two week's time the latest, and inform Tobi-nii that something came up and you need to go home and that you won't be available for however long it is until the urgent thing is settled."

Itama repeats softly whilst simultaneously signaling the Senju guards on patrol to stand down when they looked ready to tackle Madara away from their third heir.

As soon as they were at the gates, Madara passes the tiny scroll to Itama's awaiting palm and rushes to the Uchiha compound.

Madara really, _really_ hates surprises.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Cliffhanger (๑ゝڡ◕๑)! Can anyone guess what happened to frazzle Madara so? I'll give any who guesses right a virtual cookie ( • ̀ω•́ )✧!

Unfortunately, I don't know shite about meetings between two government bodies to write it in full. Pardon me on that front (´～｀ヾ)... I really, really, _really_ don't wanna research about it. Especially when I have no interest in such matters ( _they're so boring that I'd rather watch paint dry_ ). I'm not a politically minded person (〃∀〃)ゞ.

P.S. Thanks for all the wonderful comments and extra kudos (≧ω≦)ゞ! It's hilarious how everyone agrees that Madara will only realize he has a crush on Tobira... _decades_ later Buahahahaha ( ՞ਊ՞)!


	25. Chapter 25

The sky was basked in the orange light of dawn when Madara _finally_ arrives at his clan's compound. The two gate duty regulars both saluted him as he rushes by, not daring to get in his way when they saw his vexed expression, as if he was seconds away from tearing someone's throat out by his _teeth_.

As soon as he reaches his two-story house, Madara slams the shoji doors open with the subtlety of a raging bijuu and strides into the only guest bedroom, where Hikari was screaming bloody murder and an old midwife he doesn't know the name of but recognizes settled between her legs.

Ryouta immediately perks up at his arrival, looking relieved yet still worried over the complications of the child's birth, wringing his hands as he hovers around the room.

"Anija! I'm sorry for calling you at such a time and on such short notice when you're so busy with the alliance talks but I didn't know what to do I panicked and wrote the note and oh Sage I'm ill-prepared for childbirth I can only kill not heal and-"

" _Breathe_. You did well in notifying me, otouto."

He cut his little brother off, trying sound gentle and soothing, but the irritation in his tone was notable and the harsh lines on his features weren't going anywhere anytime soon. He shoots an apologetic smile, which was more of a grimace, and Ryouta returns it with more finesse.

As he settles by Hikari's side, he tucks the billowing sleeves of his mantle using a tasuki, removes his leather gloves, and submerges his hands into a bowl of alcohol, already prepared in advance.

"Takumi and Yakumi?" He raises his voice to be heard over Hikari's loud sobbing.

"They're with your hawks," Ryouta grimaces when Hikari screeches extra loud, "Takumi knows to keep Yakumi busy until I give them the ok."

"What of your posting?"

"I have my division's vice, Kaoru, stand in for me. I gave him strict instructions to call me immediately if there are any signs of invaders. I also made sure that nobody saw Hisako-san come here."

"Good. You did good, otouto."

At the reassurance that their clan would not be running around like headless chickens at the absence of their leaders, and that the word of Hikari's labor has not gotten out, he went back to thoroughly scrubbing his hands. Ryouta, on the other hand, settles behind of him to help pull his untamable mane into a high ponytail.

Whilst Madara picks the dirt out from under his fingernails, he inwardly cusses at his rotten luck.

The many months of preparations had all been _wasted_ despite having taken his child's birth into account. He had pushed the peace talks forward not only due to his Zetsu-induced paranoia, but also because he wanted to be home when Hikari was supposed to go into labor _two months later_.

Of all the birth complications, his child just had to be fucking a premature baby.

Premature babies born in this time period have a _high mortality rate_ no thanks to the lack of proper equipment, hospitals, and a sterile environment. And it was only due to the fact that Madara _knows_ that his child's slim chances of survival rely heavily upon his futuristic medical knowledge did he rush back.

If this child was not his flesh and blood, he would have prioritized the Uchiha-Senju alliance, leaving the baby's fate to the Uchiha clan's patron goddess, Amaterasu. Alas, despite its dubious conception, Madara was already fond of his unborn child.

How he abhors how easily an Uchiha feels for their family.

"How long has it been?" He asks curtly, his Sharingan whirling to life.

"Eight hours have passed since Lady Hikari has gone into labor. Her cervix has dilated enough in that timeframe and she has been pushing for almost ten minutes now." The old midwife responded clinically, brows furrowed as she looked at Hikari's pained features, "Take a deep breath in and _push out harder,_ my lady."

Madara ignores the rise of volume of Hikari's screaming and crying in favor of hovering a hand over her pregnant bulge, green chakra seeping into her womb to assist her in pushing the child out. The midwife startles at that, no doubt surprised that Madara knows medical jutsu.

He gave a baleful glare that says ' _focus on your own role_!' at the midwife, who immediately went back to encouraging Hikari. She even shoved a hand inside Hikari's bloodied entrance, ripping another howl from the woman's lips. Madara winced, not exactly sympathetic to Hikari's plight, but that looked entirely _unpleasant_ for both parties involved.

Even Ryouta, a certified _torturer_ and a veteran shinobi, looked green in the face at the ruthlessness of the midwife's unhesitant actions.

Madara was glad he was born without a uterus, and judging by Ryouta's sickly complexion, his little brother agrees with his sentiments.

It took another half an hour for his child to take their first breath of the outside air. Madara was quick to sanitize his hands again as the midwife cleaned his baby. As soon as he was handed his child, the old midwife went back to focusing on Hikari whilst Madara swiftly yet gently set his newborn babe on the prepared bedding.

"A girl." And he guestimates that she weighs less than a kilo and was at most 35cm in length.

Madara was in awe, feeling his damped eyes sting with the desire to cry, but was also quick to blink his lashes and focus more on the pressing issue. Like how his baby girl was not crying due to her difficulties in _breathing_.

He coos reassurances as he allows his healing chakra to seep into his little girl's underdeveloped lungs, strengthening the muscles and manually assisting her to breathe. Additionally, he brings his other hand to cup the crown of her head and spreads his chakra to cycle throughout the entirety of his baby girl's small body, ensuring enough heat for her to be comfortable due to her lack of fat.

Multi-casting requires intense concentration for the average person. Fortunately enough, Madara has _never_ been normal. And he embraces his abnormality, for if he does not, he would have never been able to perform such feats that should be impossible in this time period, for he knows that if he falters, the risk that his baby girl would stop breathing was high.

If only they have incubators and intubation machines at this time period.

Truthfully, he doesn't know for how long he could continue this without exhaustion rearing its ugly head. But he would not rest until she was able to automatically breathe on her own. If he has to unseal his byakugō and use it to sustain himself from collapsing, he would do so in a heartbeat.

Madara was a shinobi, he was made to endure.

"She's tiny," Ryouta whispers under his breath, wonderment in his tone as he kneels next to Madara, not once moving to touch his child despite his eagerness to hold her. She was too vulnerable right now, her skin reddish and raw and require delicate handling.

Before Madara could respond to his brother, the midwife cleared her throat. Whilst Ryouta turns fully to the old midwife, Madara keeps his eyes entirely on his baby girl, ears attentive.

"Please pardon me for the interruption, Madara-sama, Ryouta-sama. Lady Hikari has passed out from exhaustion. I would like to inquire if I should call a healer for her."

"Unnecessary. Keep what you have seen here to yourself."

"Understood. If you require any future assistance, I am at your beck and all. And congratulations. I wish your heir many years of good health and happiness."

"She is not my child," It hurts for him deny his fatherly connection to her, but he steels his heart and puts on a stoic front, his blank expression betraying nothing, "She is Tajima's daughter - my youngest sibling. She may be the clan's princess, but she will not be considered heir apparent."

The midwife lowers her head, "I apologize for my mistake, Madara-sama. My congratulations and well wishes remain, however."

"Thank you..."

"This one's name is Hisako, milord."

"I thank you for your kind words and timely assistance, Hisako-san."

"It is my pleasure and duty to help the main house and clan head to the best of my abilities. I'll excuse myself here then, Madara-sama."

"Ensure that your departure remains unseen from the masses."

"I understand."

Bowing in respect, the old midwife soon slipped out of the room. Madara and Ryouta tracked her chakra signature and only relaxes when she exits their house from the backyard.

"Is she going to be alright?" Ryouta turns to Madara with his eyes full of concern for his nibling, "I've never seen a newborn so tiny before..."

"She will be." Madara made sure to keep his voice steady and calm despite the pinch of anxiety radiating from his gut.

"Ok." Ryouta seats himself next to Madara, brushing their shoulders together in an act of comfort. "Ok." The younger Uchiha repeats, but more firmly this time.

They stayed rooted to their spots for some time, with Ryouta just smiling softly at the babe and Madara doing his best to induce his daughter's own fragile chakra to follow his own's healing patterns.

After a while, Ryouta disappeared into the hallways with Hikari thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, returning sans Hikari within a couple of minutes, in his arms now a bunch of supplies.

After first sanitizing his hands to the best of his abilities, Ryouta began to maneuver around and put a nappy on the babe, before he gently carries her into Madara's arms. Ryouta was the one to hold the baby bottle to her lips since Madara has his hands full with healing and carrying his daughter.

It was a struggle since she was so small, but they managed, somehow. Madara only wishes that their first hug could have been under better circumstances.

"What's her name?"

"I won't name her just yet."

Ryouta's head shot up from staring at the babe, lips parted in surprise and a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but they snapped shut not a second later. Madara looks away from his little brother's sorrowful gaze, knowing that his expression must have revealed more than he had intended.

Sometimes, he wishes Ryouta was more oblivious like Izuna and Yakumi.

The percentage that his little girl would live was... extremely low.

With all of his senses concentrated on his little girl, he knows that her insides were a mess.

Underdeveloped lungs were one thing, her immature immune system, brittle chakra pathways, and fragile life force was another. Not to mention the lack of proper equipment needed to keep a premature baby alive in this era. Take all of that into account and Madara wants to scream his grievances to the world.

Madara wants his little girl to live. Desperate, even. However, he knows that even with his medical prowess, it would be a difficult battle for her. He could only help so much, as he was not omnipotent. Although he had told Ryouta that she would be fine, that confidence had all been a front - his sincere wishes for his words to be true.

But it was difficult to keep his emotions from showing, to suppress them, when this was his daughter, his flesh and blood, whose life was on the line. Shinobi he may be, but he was still human. Compartmentalizing could only protect him so far.

Hence, Madara decided to be selfish. If she really could not survive the odds, he would rather bury a nameless child than a named one, pretend that she was truly Tajima's bastard of a daughter. He has always been good at denying reality.

He was also good at self-punishment, his Sharingan glinting unnaturally, burning this memory into his head as he levels his gaze at the tiny body, at her poorly lit chakra that sometimes flickers with instability.

"I want to wait for Izuna." Was his poor excuse to delay his daughter's naming.

"Ok, anija. We'll wait for Izu-nii."

Ryouta's whisper was wobbly at best, and when he wraps an arm around Madara's shoulder, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, Madara couldn't help the sudden hitch in his breathing.

* * *

Time dragged by gruelingly.

By the third day, Madara's byakugō has been replaced by thick, dark lines that stretches from an empty diamond on his forehead, down his cheeks, and reaches all the way to his wrists and ankles in a geometric pattern.

The Strength of a Hundred seal was supposed to be an ace against Zetsu, but he doesn't regret using it for the purpose of keeping his child alive.

Although his chakra pool was constantly being replenished by the stored reserves inside the seal on his forehead, Madara was mentally and physically exhausted, having not slept the entire time whilst functioning as his daughter's life support machine.

When he feels a blunt nudge against his dry lips, Madara instinctually parts them. He doesn't taste what he has been spoon fed, but his tongue protests against the gritty texture.

"-een an Uchiha with white hair before. I know for sure that Takumi would insist on making her more colorful-"

Madara shakes his head a couple of times and blinks rapidly in order to clear the fog inside his head. When his brain finally registers Ryouta's inane mumblings, he returns his half-lidded gaze to his child's form, focusing more on her features this time around whilst ignoring the tremors in his hands.

When she had just been born, she was without hair, had her eyes scrunched shut, and had reddish, pruney skin. Now, however, after an unknown amount of time has passed, Madara could see the first tufts of white growing from her crown, her lashes equally without pigmentation, and her skin pinkish pale.

He dazedly wonders if he should ask Tobirama for tips on how to raise an albino child.

"-when he'll be ba- oh _shit_! Careful, Anija."

Ryouta abruptly drops his spoon into the bowl of mush and pulls out a handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he cups Madara's chin and wipes the drool and puree food that had dribbled from his lips. All the while, Ryouta's eyebrows were pinched and his lips pressed into a straight line.

"Can't you rest for a little bit? Please?"

Madara lethargically shakes his head, causing the cold sweat that had been stubbornly clinging to his forehead to roll down his face. Ryouta's frown deepened. Without a pause, Ryouta uses the corner of his mantle's sleeve to wipe the sweat from Madara's face and neck.

"Sleep deprivation is another form of torture. You'll end up _killing_ yourself at this rate."

Again, Madara shakes his head.

If he stops his chakra output for even a single second, his daughter _might_ go into respiratory distress. He didn't want to chance it. Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. Especially when Lady Luck abhors standing at the Uchiha's side of the line.

"It's... _twelve days_ , anija! I've seen... of men fall into a... of _psychosis_ from withheld...! Can't you... how... disregard of... agonizes me?! There... limits to what a... person can accomplish! Can't... rely on..., on _us_ , even... only just a lit-"

His beloved little brother might as well be a fly buzzing around his head with how sluggish Madara's mind was processing Ryouta's aggravated words, the younger Uchiha's voice muffled by the metaphorical pieces of cotton stuffed inside his ears. Deciding that it would be a wasted effort to split his concentration any further, he went back to focusing his sole attention on his sickly daughter, taking note of her heartbeat, her chakra system, her breathing-

Madara suddenly straightens his spine, causing Ryouta to ( _blessedly_ ) fall silent, his little brother's pair of piercing, onyx eyes never once leaving his weary figure. He ignores the attention he garners, more focused on his own skyrocketed heart rate. Madara's breath was caught in his throat as he zeroes onto the fact that his baby girl was _breathing on her own_.

Tentatively, he retracts his chakra from her lungs and checks her vital signs, Sharingan whirling at an unimaginable rate to catch any signs of deterioration or collapse. When he sees no change in her condition after half an hour has passed, his body instantly topples to the side.

Were it not for his brother, he would've face planted onto the tatami mats.

He slurs his words like a drunk, briefing Ryouta that Madara's baby girl was now stable enough to live without the aid of his chakra and for Ryouta to _closely_ monitor the babe whilst he takes a short nap. He also demands that Ryouta wake him immediately if her condition deviates from the norms.

If Ryouta had responded, Madara didn't hear it. He had blacked out soon after he has said his piece - the thick, dark lines of his Seal slowly retracting back into a faded, purple rhombus on his forehead.

* * *

 **A/N:**

The votes were seriously one-sided. I shite you not (^ц^ )! Most of ya'll basically wrote, "G _ive Dara a girl so he flails about like a headless chicken"_ or _"He needs to get used to women sooner or later. Let's start easy by giving him a baby girl_ " or " _I wanna see Dara fluff up like an enraged papa porcupine guarding his little girl against icky boys_ ".

Son: 6  
Daughter: 24

To tell you the truth, I had planned to give Madara a set of twins, a boy and a girl respectively, and the gender poll was a ploy to trick you guys. But then the temptation to _off_ one of them was becoming alarmingly too high and I just... Decided otherwise.

I don't want to write about child loss right now. The heartbreak will fuck with Madara too much, so I discarded the whole chapter and spent a few extra days writing up a new one, though you can still see some of the previous draft's influence (；´∀｀)...


	26. Chapter 26

Kagami sulkily kicks the dirt beneath his sandaled feet, his bottom lip jutted out in a petulant manner.

He didn't want to be here. In the compound's market area. But his mama was being mean today; had carried him - _kicking and screaming_ \- out of bed and dragged him here against his will. She also has a tight grip on his hand, not budging no matter how much he tries to pull away.

Usually, Kagami loves helping his mama with her chores, especially if it takes him out of the house. But he hates it now. For whenever he leaves the house to go to the market with her, he would hear many of his aunts and uncles say mean things about Madara-sama, which makes Kagami angry enough to throw handfuls of dirt at them.

Mama always scolds him for that. But Kagami refuses to apologize ( _even when she pinches his ear until his eyes water. And no, they weren't tears. He was a big boy - and big boys don't cry_ ).

Those baddies had no right to say such things about Kagami's favorite person. It was all their fault that Madara-sama looks so sad and doesn't take walks around the compound nowadays. It was also their fault that mama won't let him approach Madara-sama no matter how much he throws himself on the floor and _screams_.

Glaring at the group of housewives his mama was chatting with - his curly hair all but _floofed_ at the bad gossip they have concerning Madara-sama - Kagami makes sure to memorize their faces. He plans to smear Kaitou's poop on their shoes the next time he sneaks out of the house.

It was at this moment that Kagami notices that mama's head was turned away from him, paying more attention to the fruit vendor, enough that her hand slackened for him to slip out of her hold.

He didn't hesitate to take this opportunity to rush into the crowd of shoppers, hiding him from her sight easily when he only reaches an adult's hip at best. In addition to that, he makes sure to pull his chakra inwards into a ball at his tummy to prevent leakage, just like how Madara-sama taught him to.

With a stubborn and illogical determination that only naive children could muster, Kagami, in all his three-year-old glory, enters _sneakily_ into the Uchiha main family house, expertly climbing over the wooden fence surrounding the two-story building.

At the doorway, he furrows his brows, thinking deeply if he should remove his shoes or not. It took him all but a second to decide that he should. The last time Kagami enters Madara-sama's house with his shoes on, Izuna-sama ( _the evilest adult ever_ ) had force-fed him a big bowl of _nattō_ as punishment for tracking mud all over the house.

Kagami still has nightmares about the nasty smell and taste till this day.

Shuddering at the memory, Kagami quickly swapped his sandals for a pair of black bunny slippers. They were _Kagami's_ , Madara-sama had said, for whenever he decides to drop by.

When Kagami did not find _anyone_ in the living room, kitchen, garden, or the aviary, he ambles to Madara-sama's bedroom. Peering inside, he brightens immediately upon seeing Madara-sama, slumbering the morning away. He doubts he could follow Madara-sama's example without his mama scolding him for being lazy.

Kagami knows that he should probably do the polite thing and leave, but Kagami hasn't seen Madara-sama for _so long_. So the man wouldn't mind if Kagami stays for a while longer, right?

With that decided, Kagami walks into the bedroom with tippy toes and makes himself comfortable beside Madara-sama's futon. His tiny hands soon grab a fistful of Madara-sama's hair, pudgy fingers clumsily weaving the soft strands into loose braids while he hums a lullaby mama always sings to him.

Within the blink of an eye, before Kagami was even aware that Madara-sama was awake, he feels the tip of Madara-sama's fingers brush lightly against the side of his neck. He stares in wonderment, enthralled by the older Uchiha's crimson red eyes. Kagami has seen many Sharingan with one to three dots in them before, but he has never seen a Sharingan with patterns inside.

( _The Sharingan's thrall distracted Kagami from feeling the cut Madara had made across the boy's jugular. And then healing the injury before the three-year-old could even feel the pain._ )

"Kagami," Madara-sama's raspy voice was enough to startle Kagami back into focus, only now realizing that the older Uchiha's eyes have returned to their original state of black.

Kagami pouts, wanting to study the strange pattern longer, but was easily enough distracted when Madara-sama's fingers slid upwards until he manages to cup Kagami's cheek tenderly, a thumb brushing gently across his left eyelid. Kagami giggles and all but snuggles into the heavily calloused, adult-sized palm.

"Good morning, Da-sama!" Kagami chirps his greeting like any other good boy, showing a grin with four missing front teeth. The younger Uchiha then made sure to latch onto Madara-sama's wrist, pudgy fingers holding them in place as he continuously rubs his cheek lovingly over the man's palm, "Mi-kun misses Da-sama."

The corners of Madara-sama's lips curve up slightly in a way that Kagami recognizes as fondness, which makes Kagami return it with a grin of his own, wide enough to stretch from ear to ear. If Kagami was talented enough to draw something better than a stick figure, he would've drawn all of Madara-sama's smiles and collect them as a hobby.

Once again, Kagami laments how blind the adults were to not see what Kagami sees when he looks at Madara-sama.

( _Albeit, secretly, Kagami has always thought that Madara-sama was the prettiest when he smiles and laughs and that was the second reason why Kagami tries his best to make the man happy. Mama calls Kagami an_ _esthete when he tries to explain his actions to her. Kagami doesn't know what it means - and Madara-sama only chuckles when he asked the Uchiha head that one time, much to his petulant frustration._ )

"And I you," Kagami did his best to not preen like a peacock. But looking at Madara-sama's mirthful eyes, he failed. Not that Kagami minds. Anything that makes Madara-sama was good in his books. "Not that I find your presence disagreeable, Kagami, but what are you doing here? Does your mother know of your whereabouts?"

His grin turns into a sheepish smile. And then he ignores the second question like a champ. Mama knows that Madara-sama's house was the only place Kagami would be at, other than the playground. So that question was irara- irelva- irre...something... oh, right, _irrelevant_.

"Mi-kun is on a mission to protect Da-sama!" _From all the meanies who keep saying bad things about Madara-sama._ Despite his young age, Kagami _knows_ to be tactful ( _unlike Izuna-sama_ ). So he doesn't complete the sentence.

"My, what a gentleman. A man after my own heart. How can I ever repay you for your bravery, shinobi-kun?"

Madara-sama's black eyes were bright with mirth while Kagami giggles. He also keenly notes that Madara-sama made no move to get up or leave his futon.

 _'Maybe Madara-sama is feeling under the weather today?'_ Kagami ponders.

But, well, Madara-sama _is_ an _old man_. So Kagami reasons that he shouldn't ask Madara-sama to get out of bed to play with him. Izuna-sama often mentions that old people need lots of rest, after all, whenever he refuses to release Kagami from his job as a pillow. Once again, Kagami enforces that Izuna-sama was the evilest person _ever_.

"Mi-kun doesn't need Da-sama to repay him! Mi-kun does this because Mi-kun loves Da-sama! _Buuuut_ , Mi-kun won't mind accepting _something_ from Da-sama if Da-sama wants to repay Mi-kun _that_ badly."

"Hn. Do you reckon I'd like to reward you _that_ badly?"

"Yes!"

"If you insist on it, I suppose I could?"

"Mi-kun insists!"

"Is that so? Very well, bunny. We have a deal. I'll be sure to supply _something_ after you've completed your mission," Madara-sama chuckles, his hand moving to pet Kagami on his head before pulling away.

Kagami pouts, wanting to monopolize more of Madara-sama's warmth, but allows it when he sees how exhausted Madara-sama really looks under all that playfulness. The older Uchiha has bruises on his eyebags, dark enough to mistaken them for ink, and was pallor than Kagami has ever seen him before.

Not liking the sickly image Madara-sama portrays, Kagami pulls out mama's flowery hair comb and begins combing through Madara-sama's long hair with determination. Sleep would make the tiredness in Madara-sama's eyes disappear. And the best method to induce asleep was this - as Kagami always feels sleepy whenever mama combs his hair for him.

It was with the mindset of a child did he do what he felt would help Madara-sama best at this point in time. Madara-sama didn't seem to mind, eyes becoming half-lidded at the ministration.

When Kagami notices that Madara-sama wasn't really falling asleep after some time, he tries to reassure the older Uchiha. Kagami knows that when he himself has nightmares, he would be too scared to fall back asleep. Hence, he assumes that that was the case for Madara-sama.

"Don't worry, Da-sama. Da-sama can sleep without worries! Mi-kun will be here to defend Da-sama from any nightmares like how Kaitou protects Mi-kun from his nightmares. Though Mi-kun isn't naughty enough to steal Da-sama's pillow like how Kaitou steals Mi-kun's pillows. He also pinches Mi-kun's food sometimes... and milk, too...! Naughty cat is naughty!"

Madara-sama chuckles.

Before Kagami could protest about being laughed at, Madara-sama complies and closes his eyes. Kagami snaps his mouth shut and continues combing through Madara-sama's hair.

Kagami would let Madara-sama off this time. Since elderly people like him clearly need to sleep more to ease their fatigue away. Next time, however, Kagami would scold Madara-sama for his rudeness. But now, Kagami happily hums a lullaby and focuses his sole attention on easing Madara-sama to sleep.

* * *

Madara patiently waits until his little visitor has slumped over in slumber, breathing evened out, before he opens his eyes and gets up slowly. His body trembles in exertion, but he easily pushes past that with practiced eased and gently arranges the child into his futon, rolling Kagami into a burrito without thought.

With a soft exhale, he walks out of his bedroom, pausing only to throw a fond look behind his shoulder at the sleeping child-

( _"Mi-kun does this because Mi-kun loves Da-sama!"_ )

-and heads towards the guest room, where he could sense Ryouta's and his daughter's chakra signatures at.

Ryouta looks up from his position next to a wooden cradle, expectant, when Madara enters his brother's bedroom, his face covered in a shadow of tiredness but he was also pleased to note that Madara was already rested enough to walk on his own.

"How long have I been out for?" Madara asks as he seats himself next to the younger Uchiha. His Sharingan soon enough whirls to life and he looks at his baby girl, desperately soaking in her healthy complexion and easy breathing. It makes the tensed lines of his shoulders soften.

"Three days. How are you feeling now, anija?"

"Well rested. Kagami had been a pleasant surprise upon waking, a sight for sore eyes indeed," Madara sighs, "Although I would have preferred a head's up, otouto. It was fortunate enough that I had sensed the bunny's chakra signature and reign in my instincts."

Decapitating someone he cherishes upon awakening was not something he ever wanted.

"Ah. Apologies, anija," Ryouta grimaces. "It sometimes slips my mind that not everyone starts their awareness training at the age of three."

"That is the norm, Ryouta. Our family is simply the exception."

"Hn. Should I be expecting Kagami to be trained by you soon, then? I know that anija thinks of him as an honorary little brother."

"Perhaps," Madara murmurs. Inwardly, however, he doubts that Kagami's mother would give him the permission required to tutor Kagami no matter how 'honored' it would be for a clan head to take a personal disciple, a half-Uchiha at that. "Did you invite him over?"

"No. He came uninvited but wholly welcomed. Honestly, I had feared that he wouldn't dare to come anywhere near us after _that_ event," Ryouta sighs. "As much as I hate being wrong, I'm glad to be proven otherwise in this case."

"The little bunny is stubborn," Madara agrees.

Granted, Madara too had speculated that Kagami would avoid him after _the Purge_ had taken place. Children tend to imitate the behavior of the adults around them due to how impressionable their minds were. And with Madara becoming the clan's pariah, Madara couldn't blame Kagami if the bunny turned away from him too.

In spite of the fact that Madara was pleased to interact with Kagami again, he was still anxious about _too many_ _things_ to be truly contented in spirit.

The first on his ever long list of worries right now was his daughter. It didn't matter how healthy she looked right now. He wanted to know if there were any concerns about her immune system or her vitals.

"How is...?" He trails off, onyx eyes landing on the sleeping newborn lying inside the cradle.

Her head of white hair has grown thicker, which makes Madara's heart swell in pride - perhaps his baby girl would take after him more than Hikari ( _one could only hope_ ), but she was still too young for him to determine whose bone structure dominates her facial features.

"She's a fighter like her father," Ryouta smiles, proud and full of affection, "From the constant monitoring, there have been no signs of deterioration. Nor does she have any trouble with her breathing. I am in complete awe, anija. I've always known that you are a skilled healer, but this is unexpected - in a completely good way."

"Thank you for looking after her on my behalf."

"I know you'd do the same for me. However, anija, please don't ever scare me like that again. My heart almost leaped out of my chest when you fainted."

"I apologize for scaring you, otouto."

Ryouta glares at him, onyx eyes flicker to red for a split second. Madara places a hand on his brother's head, an apologetic expression replacing his usual frown.

"Yet you're not saying you won't do it again."

Madara ruffles his brother's hair before pulling away and changing the topic.

He dislikes lying to his family. Hence, he would rather say nothing. If he needed to sacrifice his life for any of his brothers or his daughter, he wouldn't mind doing so. Their life was more important than Madara's, after all ( _and he has already made contingency plans for his contingency plans for his self-assigned Zetsu extermination mission if he ever dies earlier than expected_ ).

"What of the clan?"

Ryouta's eyebrows pinch in annoyance but allowed for the topic to shift. Madara knows that Ryouta would be extra clingy for a month or two, but it was worth it. He would never regret how he went about saving his daughter from premature death.

"Nothing has been leaked. Hisako-san-" At Madara's abrupt and utterly blank look, Ryouta huffed in exasperation. "Uchiha Hisako, _the midwife_. Honestly, anija, you should memorize the name of your fellow clansmen. _No_ , anija, don't give me that look. Simply committing their faces to memory is not enough. You need to learn their names as well. But, anyway, Hisako-san has proven that she can be trusted with patient confidentiality. There have been no rumors about Hikari going into labor."

"Good to know that there won't be any domino effect this time."

"Don't jinx it, anija. Who knows... There could be a messenger running to deliver yet another unwelcomed news - maybe about the alliance this time," The two brothers exchanged grimaces at that.

"Speaking of alliance... It's been two weeks. Yet I don't sense Izuna anywhere in the compound."

"That's because the idiot has yet to return. Izu-nii has, however, sent me a few letters to keep us up to date with the meetings. I'm frankly shocked that he has enough brain cells to do so."

Madara's lips twitched in amusement at Ryouta's dry tone. Never has a day gone by without Ryouta commenting about Izuna's intelligence, or lack thereof.

"You underestimate him far too much, Ryouta."

"Sometimes, I have a feeling I _overestimate_ him, anija."

"Don't let him hear you say that, otouto. He'll mistaken it for a compliment."

"Abysmal."

"And you ask why Izuna always curses at you."

"Hm? I've always assumed that Izu-nii only knows a small portion of our language and those obnoxious insults are simply spoken to make up for his lack of vocabulary."

Ryouta sniffs haughtily. It didn't take long for the two Uchiha to burst into childish giggling. Madara didn't realize how much he misses this until now. Talking smack about Izuna with Ryouta was truly a therapeutic and bonding experience.

( _Just hours away_ _from the Uchiha compound, Izuna has a sudden sneezing fit, his expression turned ugly when the last sneeze causes him to trip over a wayward tree root and faceplant onto the ground. The other Uchiha grimaces at their heir's embarrassing display, dismayed when they hear one of the Senju representatives' let out a rather loud snort._

 _Izuna lets out a string of curses, blaming his clumsiness on Ryouta. It was always Ryouta's fault whenever Izuna fucks up. He cares not about being unreasonable - it was Ryouta's fucking fault!_ )

"Alright. Let us get back on track. How goes the meetings?" Madara finally says after their laughter subsides. He also made sure to check if they had accidentally wakened his daughter with their noisiness. When he sees his little girl still asleep, he feels simultaneously relief and disappointment. He so badly wants to make eye contact with his baby girl.

"There had been a lot of... creative word choices used to describe how unpleasant the Senju elders are. But other than Izu-nii's whining complaints, the Senju have come into an agreement of a temporary truce while we smoothen out the treaty. From Izu-nii's last letter - which was a day ago - they'll be returning today, with Senju Tobirama as a representative from the Senju's side, followed by a group of bodyguards.

"I've already set up the tents and have also alerted the clan of our ceasefire with the Senju, along with their expected presence in our compound soon. There have been many who vocalizes their concerns, but I've spread the word that there will be three times as many patrols while the Senju are here, which manages to dispel some of their fears.

"However, there are also some who have been asking - quite loudly - about your condition, anija. You are our strongest warrior, and they worry that with you out of commission, the White Demon might show his hand."

Ryouta reports everything without a stutter, ensuring that his voice was soft enough to not wake the baby. Madara scratches his chin in thought, his mind absorbing his brother's words and processing them at a breakneck speed.

"I see. Why do they believe that I am out of commission?"

"There's no concrete evidence as nobody would dare to spy on our house. However, they've not seen you for over two weeks despite knowing you're home, anija. Even Takumi and Yakumi have not left the house, too worried about you and your daughter. Despite my reassurances, rumor has it that you've fallen gravely ill."

"I'll be sure to parade myself down the streets later on," Madara's tone was as dry as the weather in Suna. Without much effort, he extends his senses and 'sees' that his baby brothers were inside their room. "Are the twins sleeping?"

"Yes. We took turns looking after her," Ryouta gestures to the sleeping baby. "I apologize for dragging them into this, anija. I've had a hard time juggling my, yours, and Izu-nii's workload by myself."

"No. You did good, otouto. You've helped lessened many of my burdens. Thank you."

"Hn. Since I've done well... Can I get permission to _play_ with Hikari as a reward?" Ryouta suddenly asks, his lips curving into a gentle and unassuming smile. Madara huffs a laugh, amused at how bloodthirsty his little brother was.

"Just make sure to leave her intact after two month's time. I want her death to go as planned."

"Will do."

The two brothers shared a smile, one that was demented and sharp and filled with too much sadistic pleasure to actually call it anything else other than a show of teeth, really.

Whilst Madara contentedly listens to how Ryouta went on and on about the cruelest methods to inflict the most pain on a human, concurrently, back at Madara's bedroom, Kagami squirms all over the floor, tears in his eyes as he tries his _damndest_ to wiggle out of the blanket burrito he has been rolled into.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Nyehehehe~! Uchiha Kagami has finally made his debut! He's such a terribly rude narrator, but what a cute bunny he is, calling someone in their early 20s an elderly man (='ｘ'=)! I blame it on Izuna - our dear Uchiha heir likes to nap and use Kagami as a body pillow whenever he visits... that lazy ass.

I'm seriously filled with joy that everyone is happy about Madara having an albino daughter (*´∀｀)ｂ. Thank you so much for your kind comments! You guys are so sweet.

I hope this chapter answers the many, _many_ questions regarding Hikari's status. So, yeah. She's not dead. _Yet_. It tickles me how much you guys wanted her dead after childbirth. But, no way! That's a too merciful end for a rapist. I have a more painful way to kill her ^(#｀∀´)_Ψ

 **P.S.** **I'm all up for baby name suggestions.**


	27. Chapter 27

Tobirama was visibly wiped of emotions, his expression frigid and glacial enough that even Kawarama felt safer traveling at a 10 meters distance away from him. His clansmen ( _bodyguards, the elders had insisted_ ) followed Kawarama's example, all of them staying at a tentative distance while still keeping him inside a circle of protection.

Tobirama would've normally snorted derisively at the mere thought of _anybody_ succeeding at an ambush while he was actively kneading chakra, but due to how terrible his current mood was, he unfortunately enough didn't have it in him.

While his body moved with tandem, following after the Uchiha delegation at a respectable distance ( _a few hours away from the Uchiha compound now_ ) his mind was entirely elsewhere. His inner eye was steadily keeping track of Madara's chakra signature, unmoving for the past half an hour, and by the sense of things, was at rest next to Ryouta and an unknown tiny being- a _newborn_.

At the reminder of the small and very, _very_ distinctly different yet _familiar_ chakra signature, an involuntary scowl made its way to Tobirama's face, causing Kawarama to move another meter away. To be truthful, Tobirama reckons that nobody actually knows that he was able to backtrack a person's antecedents via their chakra signature.

In fact, Tobirama doubts that even _Madara_ ( _who everyone knows is a certified genius_ ) would be able to pull apart and study a person's chakra signature in depth, at the level Tobirama was able to.

What the masses were ignorant about was that when a child was born, their chakra signature would be a mixture of their parents'. The percentage of who they take after were more randomized, however ( _he was still researching about it_ ).

Take Tobirama and his brothers for example.

Hashirama has over ninety percent of their father's chakra signature and little of their mother's. Tobirama has about seventy percent of their mother's. Kawarama has about thirty percent of their mother's. And Itama was a perfect blend of their parents'.

As for the Uchiha main family members, Madara has about twenty percent of Tajima's chakra signature. Izuna has a little more than Madara. Ryouta has the highest percentage out of the five brothers; ninety-five percent. Yakumi has sixty percent. And Takumi has forty percent.

If Tobirama's grandparents had still been alive and MIA, he would have been able to track them by using Butsuma's chakra signature as a pointer even if he has never met them before. This made Tobirama quite the tracker, but that was irrelevant.

What was relevant was that the newborn's chakra signature has Madara's in it, as high as ninety percent, in fact, proving that the baby to be definitely _Madara's_.

Just to be clear, Tobirama had also sensed the remaining ten percent _exactly_ fifteen days ago, on the day Madara had left the Senju compound ( _Tobirama wasn't a stalker. He had been worried at Madara's abrupt departure_ ). By the sense of things, Madara had been next to her the whole time she was giving birth. And then proceeded to continually cycle healing chakra into the newborn's body up until three days ago.

It was with a _rotten_ realization that Madara had concealed his status as a husband - a _married man -_ from both Tobirama and Itama. And Tobirama was positively _irked_ at the shocking discovery. He knows he shouldn't take it personally since Madara has the right to keep his own secrets, and that Madara, as a clan head, was _expected_ to have many heirs to secure his lineage.

But his hateful heart was not in agreement with his logical mind, causing his emotions to be all over the place.

Just the thought of Madara being with _someone else_ made Tobirama _physically ill_. It was illogical. He knows it was. But he couldn't help it. Hence, he decided that it would be better to - _later in private_ \- congratulate Madara on becoming a father. That way, he could move on. That way, he could be genuinely happy for his best friend.

Gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable tightness of his gut and downright _painful_ pounding radiating from his chest, Tobirama exhales all of those pathetic feelings out of his body and breathes in deeply to clear his mind. He needs to remain focus on the Senju-Uchiha alliance. He has no time for such _distractions_. He needs to prioritize.

With practiced ease, he pushes all that worthless heartbreak into a metallic box inside his headspace, which goes into another secured box, and then pushes said box into the deepest and darkest corner of his mind, never to be tampered with again.

He was used to discarding his emotions.

After all, Tobirama was a shinobi _first_ and a human _second_.

* * *

Kawarama peeks hesitantly at his older brother, usually so detached and callous, now a bundle of angst. It wouldn't be obvious to outsiders, but Kawarama has known the man his entire life, hence it was easy for him to see that Tobirama was feeling out of it.

And wasn't that just _strange_? That the cold-blooded _ice queen_ of their clan _feels_ something other than irritation, exasperation, and anger?

Kawarama can't help but wonder if someone had replaced his brother with a more _human_ -version of him. Never before has he seen the albino so... _sad_... for the lack of better wording. Not even during their parents' funeral or the at the passing of many of their clansmen.

The downright melancholic vibes were freaking him out, honestly.

So Kawarama did what he always did when he didn't want to think about a problem. He ignores them. Meaning, he tries his hardest to ignore the pitiful, doleful eyes of his brother. They've never had a heart-to-heart before, and Kawarama won't start one now. He would leave Tobirama's weird mood for either Hashirama or Itama to deal with.

 _Besides_ , he wasn't really happy with his brother at this point in time. For the past few months, he has been feeling awfully suspicious about Tobirama's easy acceptance of this alliance meetings.

The Uchiha clan have been their nemesis for many centuries. So how could Tobirama, someone who was their father's prized weapon, just drop all the hatred their clan feels for the Uchiha and agree with Hashirama that peace between the two clans was possible?

Hashirama was the dreamer in their family. The Idealist. Tobirama, on the other hand, was the realist. Always clinically detached from any situation and making choices that discomforted many. Tobirama was their family's _monster_. So why was he so adamant about this alliance? He should be the first one to refuse, to deny, to do whatever it takes to stop Hashirama from accepting.

 _'He's planning something'_ , a voice in his head whispers, _has been_ for quite some time. _'This alliance is a mistake.'_

Kawarama purses his lips, wholeheartedly agreeing with the voice in his head.

Yes, there was something suspicious going on with Tobirama, something everyone had overlooked. But Kawarama wasn't the second-in-command. Even if he questions Tobirama, Hashirama nor Itama would not listen. His voice, too, played little part in the clan's politics.

If only he was stronger, he could challenge Tobirama for his position and do his best to persuade Hashirama that this was all one big mistake.

The elders would agree with him.

Kawarama simply needs a chance to take Tobirama out of the picture-

 _No_.

He physically shakes his head to rid such thoughts from his mind.

Why was he thinking of such vile things? An usurping? _Fucking hell,_ Kawarama. Tobirama may be a cold-blooded killer, but he was still his brother, his family. He was not a kinslayer - he wasn't going to assassinate his older brother!

 _'What if he's planning something with the Uchiha? Do you remember that your dearest brother had talked privately with Madara back then? How suspicious... Do you reckon he's planning to betray the Senju? What if this is all a trap?'_ the voice continues, bringing many unpleasant scenarios to mind.

Biting his lower lip, his gaze lingers on his brother's armored back, his fingers twitching to reach for his blade. But in the end, he clenches his fists and inwardly yells for the voice to _shut up._ For now, Kawarama would keep a close eye on his brother. _Nothing else_.

He ignores how the voice mocks him for his sloppy and soft decision.

* * *

With a baby cradled in his arms, Madara makes his way to his backyard with Kagami at his side, pudgy fist bunching the fabric of his hakama. He was still lethargic, but his partially wet hair played a good part in shadowing most of his weariness from sight and his haori covered the tired lines of his shoulders.

A hot soak in the bath had also done him good, though he could've gone without Kagami swimming mid-soak. The toddler was never one for stillness and Madara dreads the thought of ( _officially_ ) teaching the boy how to meditate in the future.

"Who is Da-sama carrying?" Kagami finally asks after many curious looks. "And why does _akachan_ have old people hair?"

Madara snorts, amused at the toddler's simple mindset. Not that he blames the child for his ignorance. All Uchiha, after all, have dark hair, disregarding the elderly.

Privately, he wonders if Kagami would call Tobirama Tobi- _ojii_ chan or something equally funny after Madara introduces them. Wouldn't that just be _hilarious_? To call a man in his prime an old grandpa just because he has white hair... _Sage_ , Madara _really_ wants to see that.

For that reason alone, Madara would not enlighten Kagami on albinism.

"Before I answer your question, bunny, may I have a look at _that_?" Kagami obediently complies, parting his lips and sticking out his tongue. Madara's Sharingan whirls to life for a second, confirming the legibility of the seal, before he nods. "This here is my baby sister, the princess of our clan," Madara lied with a straight face, idly brushing off the discomfort he feels at seeing the Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal on someone so young.

As much as Madara tries to be a better person, he couldn't afford to have Kagami witness the secrets of his household and leak them due to carelessness. There were _plenty_ of skeletons in Madara's closet, too many to hide from a frequent visitor. This was also one of the reasons why Madara refuses to accept servants now that he could afford them.

It would have been easier to deny Kagami access into the Uchiha main family house, but Madara chose to be selfish ( _and hates himself for it_ ). He likes having Kagami close to him. Furthermore, Ryouta, another person Madara has placed the seal on, says that the seal doesn't hurt when applied.

So yeah, better to be safe than sorry. It wasn't paranoia if the whole world was really out to get him.

" _Oooooooohhh_!" Kagami gaped cutely. "That's awesome! Can Mi-kun be her friend even if she's our princess?!"

"There's nothing stopping you from being her friend. I know this is exciting, but let us use our indoor voice, alright bunny? She's sleeping."

"Oopsie," Kagami adorably puts the hand that was not holding onto Madara's hakama on his mouth. "Mi-kun is sorry."

"That's alright, child. Now, what would you like to do whilst we wait for your mother to fetch you?"

"Can't Mi-kun stay over?" Kagami pouts.

"I'm afraid not."

"Tomorrow?"

"Not this month," Madara gently declines the sleepover.

For one, they would all be far too busy with entertaining the Senju. Two, Kagami's mother was adamant that her son not spend time with Madara after the Purge. Even now, he could sense her chakra signature pacing up and down the street, no doubt worrying herself silly at Kagami's disappearing act.

Madara takes pity on her and decides to exhaust Kagami enough for the boy to be suasible, before letting Izuna drop the boy home. Izuna, at least, wasn't unwelcomed by the masses like Madara was.

"But Mi-kun hasn't stayed here for _so long._.." Kagami looks up with teary eyes, his gait slowing. Madara sighs inaudibly and slows his steps so that Kagami won't trip to keep up with him.

"I know, bunny, and we'll figure something out. But for now, how about we continue with the dance lessons? You enjoy them, don't you?"

The toddler immediately perks up, bouncing energetically at the suggestion.

"Yes! Mi-kun misses dancing with Da-sama!"

After replacing their slippers with something more appropriate for outdoor wear, they walked to the middle of the backyard with Madara balancing his daughter in one arm.

Madara retrieves a tessen from his tattoo seal as soon as Kagami finishes with his stretches and warm-up, which consisted of a set of ten push-ups, sit-ups, and squats, followed by one round of running around the backyard ( _small stuff that would help Kagami's physical state whilst at the same time making him look healthy rather than well trained_ ).

The war fan looked harmless like any other folding fan, but it was heavy with iron plates, and when he snaps it open, there was a hideous painting of a black bunny on it, which looked more like a rat, courtesy of Kagami's lack of drawing talents.

He gives it a few test swings - the force of his swings causing the trees to groan and bend like a rubber band, much to Kagami's glee - before snapping it close and handing it to the toddler, handle first.

Kagami eagerly reaches for it, and despite the fan's heaviness and dwarfing length, longer than the boy's arm, the sweaty toddler holds it single-handedly without much strain.

"Take your stance," Madara orders.

The younger Uchiha promptly adopted the proper posture, wielding the fan as if it were an extension of his arm. Madara nods in approval, and at the wave of his hand, Kagami begins his kata. Kagami was usually clumsy and childish, but right now, he appears sophisticated and graceful, eyes sharp and full of discipline, knowing that playtime was over.

"Keep your movements _sharp_ despite the fluidity of this exercise," Madara asserts as he circles around his student, fixing a few holes every now and then. "Tessenjutsu is a dance that utilizes your opponent's strength against you. The fan itself is mostly used to fend off kunai, shuriken, or senbon, but a weapon, no matter its size, is a deadly tool in trained hands."

When his daughter started to whine in her sleep, Madara begins to gently rock her whilst lowering his volume, not stopping at circling around the sweating toddler.

"Keep your elbows tucked, Kagami. Are you that desperate to become an amputee?"

Madara snarks whilst pulling out his own wine red tessen, worn and scratched from the many battles it has seen, and unhesitantly stabs the blunted butt of the weapon into Kagami's inner elbow. The boy flinches and scrunches his face in pain ( _blinking his watery eyes rapidly_ ), but continues without a single word of complaint, wisely aligning his elbows to prevent them from flapping like a duck's.

"Abysmal footwork! No student of mine will have two left feet," Madara barks, mercilessly throwing a number of kunai at the boy.

Judging by the trajectory, Kagami's feet would be skewered if he continues to move in that direction. The boy quickly reacts, however, eyes narrowed in determination as they quickly take in where the kunai would land and correctly fixes his footwork. His right foot narrowly avoids the fate of becoming a pincushion.

It made Madara hide a proud smile behind his open fan.

Kagami, despite many of the abusive whispers gossiping about his status as a half-blood, was a _prodigy_ like Izuna and Ryouta. Madara has only started the boy's training not too long ago; a month before _the Purge_ happened, and he has already progressed far into the basics of tessenjutsu.

It was really too bad Madara could only teach him sparsely and not fully, blotches of knowledge he tries to squeeze into the boy's brain despite the short time frame.

When the elders found out that Kagami has been visiting the main family house frequently, they believed that Madara was merely giving Go lessons to the half-Uchiha ( _which was half-true_ ), what with Madara having gifted the boy a normal wooden fan used for decoration purposes rather than battle.

Kagami, from what he has observed from afar, would use the fan to train in his bedroom, wisely keeping his lessons a secret, knowing that his mother would prevent him from learning more if she realizes the truth. Especially since she was a civilian, disliking the mere idea that her little boy was training to become a _killer_.

Madara understands her hesitancy, as he himself was a parent and would prefer to keep his daughter free from the horrors of the battlefield. However, he would not succumb to such gooey emotions. In this era, men tend to look down upon women, seen as weak and easily controlled. And Madara seethes at the thought of anybody taking _liberties_ with his daughter.

Even if her albinism and premature birth bring forth a physical fragility, making her more vulnerable to being targeted by men, Madara would train her _harder_ to overcome such hurdles. Nobody, and he means **_nobody_** , would best his daughter if he has anything to say about it.

At the feeling of a soft pat on his chest, his gaze strays to his albino daughter, who was sleepily blinking her _cherry blossom_ eyes at him, one fist flailing about and hitting at his chest ever so often. He smiles at her, happy to see her awake and in awe at the adorable color of her eyes. The shade was mesmerizing, and at the right angle, they would have a reddish tint at the edges.

He was tempted to name her _Sakura_ there and then.

"I-Is she... _huff_... awake?" Kagami asks breathlessly, still executing one of the tessenjutsu techniques.

Seeing that Madara was in a good mood, he told Kagami to go and cool down so that they could have a short break and makes his way to the kitchen. After preparing some refreshments, he sat on the edge of the engawa, holding a baby bottle to his daughter's lips. Kagami slumps next to Madara not a moment later, thoroughly soaked in sweat but has a wide, refreshing grin on his face.

"Mi-kun forgot to ask just now. What is hime-sama's name?" Kagami blinks curiously and reaches for a glass of milk.

"Yes, aniki, what is the name of our princess?" Izuna butts in, slumping bodily over Madara whilst wrapping his arms around the older Uchiha's waist and settling his chin on Madara's shoulder. "Woah. No offence, aniki, but you look like you've just given fucking _birth_. Look at them dark circles. _Damn_."

"... Thanks," Madara gives the cheeky brat a dry look. "Took your time, didn't you?" He had sensed Izuna's chakra signature entering the compound _hours_ ago.

"What is Izuna-sama doing here?!" Kagami latches onto Madara's haori with a pout. "Let Da-sama go! Da-sama is Mi-kun's today!"

"Possessive little shit, aren't you?" Izuna blew a raspberry at Kagami. "This is my home. Where else would I fucking go?"

"Language," Madara sighs.

As usual, Izuna ignores his reprimand and continues to tease the toddler, riling the boy up until Kagami screeched in anger and all but threw himself at the smug looking Izuna, who releases Madara to jump out of the boy's leap.

"Meanie! Stupid ugly bald _meanie_! Izuna-sama is the evilest adult ever!"

Izuna dances circles around Kagami, slipping out of the boy's grip like a slippery eel. With a devious glint in his eyes, Izuna swoops in for the 'kill' and dangles Kagami like the boy was some kind of disgruntled kitten. Cute.

"Behave, children," Madara rolls his eyes when they, again, ignore him. "Alright. I'm going."

He skillfully ducks underneath Kagami's wayward limbs, pockets the boy's tessen, and walks to the front door. Izuna would remember to report to Madara after he has had his fun. For now, he should let in the guest that Izuna has left waiting at their entrance.

"Tobirama," Madara greets, eyes crinkling in happiness. It was a thrilling sight to see his childhood friend and the clan's number one enemy standing outside his home. "I apologize for the wait. Come in, we have much to discuss."

The Senju's lips part, ready to return his greeting, but halted. Those ruby red eyes blinked as they gaze at the baby Madara was feeding, a myriad of emotions flashing across his features until, finally, they settled on pleasant surprised. Somehow, it felt as if there was something _off_ about Tobirama, but Madara wasn't sure what it was.

"I dread at the idea of you caring for a child with special needs," Tobirama slips into a pair of offered slippers and raises a judgemental brow at the snow leopard design.

"That's why you're here, Tobira," Madara smirks. "You're Kazuha's godfather, after all."

Madara's Sharingan whirls to life as he smugly soaks in the utterly _gobsmacked_ expression the older albino was wearing on his face. It feels infinitely _satisfying_ whenever he manages to shatter this _loveable_ iceberg's poker face.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you for _**all**_ the wonderful name suggestions! There were _seriously_ so many...! I had a tough time deciding! ( ´∀｀)b In the end, I've decided on a symbolic name, filled with older Madara's sentimentality and is quite Uchiha-sounding. Kudos and virtual cookies to those that helped me with this name (〃´∀｀)!

Kazuha (和葉) = Kazu "和" is Peace/Harmony, and Ha "葉 " is Leaf.

Please, tell me your thoughts ( • ̀ω•́ )✧


	28. Chapter 28

Two men were engaged in an intense staring contest inside Madara's office. Neither one of them wanted to yield in this battle of wills. It was only when the infant in Madara's arms started to squirm and whimper did her father break eye contact with the Senju.

Disgruntled at being rebuffed ( _and losing the staring contest_ ), Madara this time refuses to even _look_ at his friend, an involuntary pout playing across his lips as he rocks his daughter in an attempt to calm her from the beginnings of a tantrum.

"Be reasonable, Madara," Tobirama started, sounding simultaneously exasperated and exhausted. "It's not that I am unwilling-"

"But you _are_ ," Madara cut in mercilessly, his gaze focused solely on his tearful daughter. "There is no one _near_ my office. And I _know_ for a fact that you can sense that. Nobody will enter this wing unless I permit it - not even my brothers. The only reason left is that you simply prefer not to hold Kazuha. _Why_? You are her _godfather_."

Madara would prefer to not admit it even in his own mind, but it irritates him that Tobirama refuses to hold his daughter. Or even accept the position of Kazuha's godfather. What sort of person would reject the position of the Uchiha princess's godfather? Nobody _sane_ , that's who.

( _And if it hurt Madara to have his_ best friend _in this life went ahead and turned his offer down, it was nobody's business to know but his own._ )

" _I_ am _unfit_ to be her godfather, Madara!" Tobirama finally lost all patience and forcefully turned the stubborn Uchiha's head so that they could look each other in the eye. The Senju didn't let go of Madara's cheeks, steadily asserting his reasonings with a calm he did not feel. " _Think_ , my friend. Our clan, I have no doubt, will become allies soon enough. But _currently_ , the Senju and the Uchiha are _still_ enemies. Disregarding the armistice, we are _technically_ still at _war_! Please tell me you have kept this foolishness to yourself.

"You _cannot_ , in your right mind, as the _clan head_ , elect _me -_ a Senju who is also an _heir -_ as your _heiress's_ godfather. What would the elders perceive from this verdict? What about your brothers? What about your clan? What about _mine_? This is madness, Madara. Your decision is _farcical_ at best - rationalize with your _mind_ , not your _heart_.

"I know that becoming a father is a new experience for you, and while your sentiments _are_ appreciated, this is _not_ the time to allow your emotions to cloud your clinical judgment. _Prioritize_ _the alliance._ "

By the end of Tobirama's tirade, Madara had long chewed his bottom lip raw in an attempt to keep his thoughts from leaving his tongue. He knows that if he were to speak right now, he would be yelling at the top of his voice - and it would no doubt startle his daughter into a crying fit.

It did not, however, stop him from trembling in _utter rage_.

 _How dare he?! How dare Tobirama believe that Madara chose him as godfather just because of_ self-indulgement _?! Madara has his reasons! Logical ones!_

Perhaps his facial expression had morphed into something ugly, for Tobirama did not hesitate to release the tight grip on his face and take a step back, finally giving Madara some needed space to _breathe_. With a stuttering exhale, Madara, with as much gentleness as he could muster at this point in time, places his sniffling daughter in a crib next to his desk and moves to stand just by the window with his back to Tobirama.

He couldn't bear to look at Tobirama right not. If he did, he might be tempted to throw his desk at the Senju in a fit of rage. Madara didn't want to be like Tajima - constantly violent in front of his children.

Apart from the infant's barely audible sniffles, the office descended into a pregnant silence, filled with heavy tension so palpable it could be cut with a kunai.

"I understand," Madara finally said after many long minutes, his tone clipped and his entire body taut. "It was my mistake. Forget everything I've said. I apologize for causing you unneeded stress."

"Madara-"

"Uchiha Kazuha's birth is a secret. I'd appreciate it if you kept her existence to yourself."

There was a pause.

"Yes, of course, Madara. You have my word. But why-"

"You must be tired from your travels, Senju-dono. We can talk about the alliance another day."

Madara refuses to turn, not deterred by the feel of Tobirama's ( _safe_ ) warmth near his back. The Senju had moved until he was standing close enough for them to share heat, but still leaving a gap, wary of breaching the barrier of touch when Madara's whole body was filled with tension.

"Madara I... Please forgive me for the denouncement I had previously made. It was petty and childish of me to take my frustrations out on you. My words had come from a place I am not proud of. I... was being a hypocrite and spoke out of turn. Please believe me when I say that I truly do appreciate your offer, that I truly do feel honored to be chosen as your daughter's godfather. I can't apologize enough for allowing my jealousy to take hold of me."

Madara turns sharply to face Tobirama, a sneer on his lips and arms wrapped around his stomach as if the gesture alone could protect him. " _Jealous_? What could you possibly be jealous of?" If Tobirama wanted to bullshit, he should've used another excuse. There was nothing in Madara's life that Tobirama should be jealous of. He had been abused, maltreated, and _raped_ , to list a few.

The only singularity he has that anybody should be jealous of was his family, all alive and healthy in this war-torn era. But Tobirama, too, has an intact family. So, really, it wasn't worth mentioning in this instance.

" _Her,_ " Tobirama spoke with such sadness Madara was taken aback.

"Kazuha?" Madara blinks confusedly, unsure of how to react if that were the case. "You have... nothing to be jealous of, Tobira. I'm sure that you'll one day have a child to call your own as well." Although from memory, then-Tobirama had remained single all his life, focused solely on his shinobi career, village duties, and students. "However, being a godparent is also considered-"

"Not her, Madara," Tobirama halts him before he could rant about the pros of being Kazuha's godfather _again_. "Your wife."

It took a couple of seconds for his brain to register, but when it did, Madara made a face as if he had just taken a bite of something rotten. " _Why on earth would you be jealous of that bitch_?!" He all but _shrieked_ , his hands twitching as if they wanted to grab Tobirama's collar and shake the Senju back to his senses. "If you're into the shite Ryouta is into, I won't judge, but to _want_ to be in the victim's shoes is freaky as fuck. I had thought only Itama had extreme masochistic tendencies, but I suppose it runs in the family, huh?"

The face Tobirama made when Madara called his wife a bitch was bafflement, which changed into confusion when Madara talked about Ryouta's hobby, and finally settles on dry amusement and denial at the last bit. Tobirama's expressions would've been highly amusing if Madara wasn't currently trying to piece together a puzzle that has too many missing pieces in it.

"No, I assure you that I have no masochistic tendencies to speak of," was Tobirama's dry response. "And I'd rather not know how'd you even become aware of Itama's bedroom kink. For my own sanity, I'll pretend to have not heard that. Anyway, are you and your wife not on good terms?"

Madara all but rolled his eyes, sidestepping past the Senju to check on Kazuha. His voice had been a tad too loud just now, but thankfully, the babe wasn't startled into a crying fit.

When he turned back, ready to go on a tangent about his so-called wife, Tobirama was practically in his face with how close the Senju was standing. He would've taken a step back if there wasn't a crib behind of him. But he made do by throwing an evil eye at the adult albino.

"Not on good terms is putting it lightly," Madara scoffs. "Our relationship hasn't been a consensual one from the start. She has been groomed from a very young age to become the _clan head_ 's bride, so she knows no other path than to marry me, the _current_ clan head. However, I hadn't the option to refuse the marriage; Tajima and the elders would never have allowed for it."

"If you have had the option..."

"I would have declined. For now, I'll settle with becoming a widower."

"Judging from your words, I'll assume that there has never been love involved."

' _As if I could ever love a person who had taken liberties with me.'_ Was what was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down and reconstructed his words.

He was becoming increasingly wary of this topic - what if he _slipped_? Madara would rather take all of his dirty secrets to his grave than to show his friend how broken he was on the inside. How much self-disgust he feels for himself, how defiled he feels on a day to day basis, the need to bath until his skin was raw always present in his head.

"No, never. If you're done playing twenty questions, I'd rather we go back to discussing how you'll be accepting the offer of becoming Kazuha's godparent."

The feelings of wariness increased when Tobirama places his hands on the crib's bars, successfully trapping Madara in between his arms, and leans forward, which made Madara lean away with little results. The space between them was practically non-existent, their chests brushing against the other and their breaths mingling.

"Tobira?" Madara was sweating, unsure about this situation. His heart was doing somersaults inside his chest and he _just knows_ that the Senju could feel it beating a mile a minute. He was self-conscious enough to contemplate headbutting the albino away from him. "What are you doing? Why are you... _hugging...?_ me?"

Tobirama suddenly laughs, his lips pulled into a wide smile and his ruby red eyes squinting in apparent pleasure.

There was relief in his expression, combined with the _weird-angry-contemplating_ look then-Tobirama used to have whenever they would be paired together for a mission or whenever they got into each other's faces during one of their infamous shouting matches.

"I'm in love with you, Uchiha Madara."

 _... Tobirama-san say what?_

"I fear that if I do not take this opportunity to tell you that I am in love with you, another person would steal your heart away. I'm not adverse to us becoming an item, Madara. In fact, I'd love for us to be romantic partners if you'd allow us the chance."

 _... Senju-san say what again?_

The office, once again, descended into silence.

This time, however, it wasn't a silence that made them both skittish and downright murderous, but it was nevertheless uncomfortable to Madara. His mind was blank, completely empty of thoughts, with only _those words_ repeating in his head like a broken recorder.

"You don't need to come up with a response at this point in time, Madara. Take as long as you need to think through my confession. Additionally, don't feel pressured to respond in any way because I'll accept the offer of becoming Kazuha's godparent regardless - if you're still willing to choose me after this. No matter your answer, I promise that there won't be any awkwardness between us. Although I do hope it'll be a favorable one?"

Tobirama presses a chaste kiss against Madara's cheek, before leaving the office after another one of those _weird-angry-contemplating_ looks directed at his dumbfounded form.

Madara dazedly places a hand on the cheek that had been kissed, the warmth of Tobirama's soft lips still linger in his mind. His face and ears felt burning hot and his heart was jumping up to his throat. The kiss didn't feel disgusting like Hikari's or brotherly like Ryouta's. It was _endearing_ and _fond_ and... and... Madara covers his face with his hands, feeling embarrassed and ruffled yet _content_ at the same time.

Peeking at his daughter from between his fingers, he makes a confused noise that vibrates from his throat.

"Did that just happen?"

She sneezes cutely.

Madara needs a bottle _or ten_ of saké right now.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry for the late update!

Friggin should've seen how many drafts I've thrown out the window before I was satisfied with this one (－‸ლ)! The first few drafts had Madara flipping a table, throwing a table through a window, and other violent actions that would not be suitable with a baby in the room. So, yeah, discarded (〃´∀｀). The next few were downright depressing. So, that's a no as well. We don't need any more angst (;′Д`). I want to hurry and get to creating Konoha, killing Zetsu, and getting their happy ending. Hopefully, this didn't seem rush. The _confession_... I blame it on Tobirama being emotional right now. Love makes people rash and stupid, right? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Thoughts? ┐(´∀｀)┌


	29. Chapter 29

"Izuna?"

"Hn?"

"Just to sate my curiosity, has anyone ever confessed their love to you before?"

Izuna abruptly spewed, covering the entire table - _food and all_ \- with watermelon juice and saliva. Takumi and Yakumi immediately shouted their disgust whilst Ryouta leans away from his bowl of now soggy, pink rice. Madara reacted the same way as his second younger brother, quickly pulling away from the table before Izuna's _nastiness_ could cover Kazuha's tiny body.

"How many times have I told you, nii-san, that if you _really_ must spew whatever is inside your mouth, you would do well to _look away from the table first_?" Ryouta's utterly sarcastic tone did not match his gentle smile, darker now that dinner has been ruined.

Izuna was unresponsive apart from the strangled noise he let out, his pair of onyx eyes wide as they continued to stare at Madara in blatant shock. When Ryouta abruptly turns to Madara, the eldest shuddered at the chilling glare he receives. "And _you,_ anija. What did I say about asking _perturbing_ questions whilst we are feasting? Especially when we've only _just_ started eating?"

"Not to...?" Madara smiles nervously, awkwardly shifting away from Ryouta without seeming too obvious that he was retreating.

"Yes. _Not to,_ " The third Uchiha brother throws the two culprits equally dark looks before he pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. "Takumi, Yakumi, come. Assist me in whipping up something quick for us. As for you, big brothers, I expect this mess to be cleaned _right now_. If the table remains covered in watermelon juice upon my return... I'll leave that to your imagination."

Izuna and Madara both squeaked an affirmative at Ryouta's sadistic and twisted smile whilst the twins followed after their third older brother like obedient ducklings, wise enough to not attract Ryouta's wrath upon them by whining.

As soon as the three left the living room, Izuna practically jumped at Madara with zealous eyes. "Who's the motherfucker that confessed to you?! Are they a man or a woman?!"

"... Why does their gender matter?" Madara warily responds whilst placing Kazuha on a zabuton and cushioning her between two small pillows.

"So that I can _rip_ their fucking balls off or _bitchslap_ them, depending on their gender, brother mine! Now tell me who!" Izuna all but _snarls_ in protective fury.

Madara gives Izuna a _very_ judgmental look. "You didn't bitchslap Hikari when we got married."

"An error that I've already fixed some time yesterday," Izuna makes a sharp gesture as if swatting away a fly. "Don't try to sidetrack me, aniki! I'm not _that_ easily distracted."

"Could have fooled me," Madara mumbles as he removes his gloves and begins cleaning the table. In a louder voice, he spoke, "What are you standing around for? Hurry up and help me. Or are you really that keen to find out what Ryouta's plans are for disobedient people?"

Izuna's lips part, as if to yell, but when Madara's words fully register, he was quick to snap his mouth shut and move in tandem with the older Uchiha. All the while muttering profanities directed at their third brother. Foolish little brother, always grumpy and irritable, Madara thought fondly.

When they were done, Izuna immediately went back to poking Madara for answers whilst the latter slips on his pair of customary leather gloves.

"It's only a question, Izuna," Madara grits out. "I'm simply curious if you've ever been confessed to before. There is no other purpose than that."

"But you're _never_ curious about relationships!"

"Oh _for the love of_ \- I'm not asking about _relationships_! Don't go putting words in my mouth."

"Then are you asking me for advice? _Love_ - _related_ advice?" Izuna wiggles his brows, before realizing something and quickly banished the expression. His demonic look returned with vengeance. "I'll. fucking _. kill._ them!"

"I'm only asking you out of p _ure curiosity_ , Izuna! There is no one out there for you to kill, _okay_?!"

"No... There's definitely someone! My brotherly instincts are _screaming_ at me that there is!"

" _No_ , there _isn't_!"

" _Yes_ , there _is_!"

"There isn't!"

"There is!"

"There isn't!"

"There is!"

" _There isn't_!"

" _There i_ -"

"Okay, that's enough from the both of you!" Ryouta cuts in with a loud and reverberating clap. "Naughty children are prohibited from eating at the table, so if you would rather starve, please, _continue_."

"I'm not a child, Ryouta!" Izuna yells indignantly, easily sidetracked despite stating otherwise. "Don't treat me like I'm Kagami!"

"If you argue and act like a child, I will treat you as such. That includes you, anija," Was Ryouta's dry response. "Now, are we all done with being children?"

Madara has enough self-preservation to remain quiet as Takumi and Yakumi set the table with plates of grilled shishamo, tamagoyaki, and stir-fried vegetables, along with five bowls of rice. The lack of their usual broth was telling of Ryouta's mood (Izuna _loves_ miso soup, especially Ryouta's handmade miso soup that was filled with an _extensive_ amount of abura-age in it).

Izuna, on the other hand, has zero self-preservation instincts in his body - all but screeching his dissatisfaction at Ryouta.

Madara worries about his heir's IQ at times like this.

The twins seem to agree with his mental thoughts, as they both gave Izuna pitiful glances - _though for only a split second_ \- before they started stuffing their faces, ignoring whatever drama was going on at the table, more concern about filling their stomachs than their second older brother's health. Madara almost coos at their cuteness.

By the end of dinner, Izuna had had his food eaten by Ryouta and the twins whilst he watches from his seat and wasn't able to retaliate due to the ninja wire wrapped around him like a cacoon.

Izuna was then sent to bed with only a small bag of peanuts to keep his stomach from shriveling, clearly upset yet unable to change Ryouta's mind on his punishment. Madara wonders if this would _finally_ make Izuna realize that it was ill-advised to anger the chef of their family, but he doubts it. Izuna was daft like that.

* * *

"It's the _White Demon_ , isn't it?"

Madara looks up from the mission reports to see Ryouta standing in front of his desk, a contemplative look having replaced his usual gentle expression. Madara blinks slowly, unsure if he was hallucinating or if this was real. A quick look out the window shows that the moon was red in color.

Real, then.

It wasn't often that anybody could successfully sneak up on him. Thus, Madara was pleasantly surprised that Ryouta had managed. He inwardly praises his brother a job well done and silently promises to ship more toys as a reward.

"What are you doing up, otouto? It's late." _As in_ ass o'clock _late_. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself too hard," Madara says with a deploring frown. Boys his age shouldn't be losing sleep when there wasn't a need to.

" _I_ should be the one disapproving you for toiling the night away, anija. It isn't me who is doing paperwork at 4 in the morning."

"Well," Madara smirks. "I'm an adult so it's fine."

"... That's _discrimination_ at its highest, anija. Just because my body has yet to reach adulthood does not mean I am still a child in mind," Ryouta huffs with crossed arms. "But, whatever. I did not come here to debate about your poor sleep hygiene - I'm here to appease my curiosity. Tell me, anija, is it the White Demon?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that, otouto."

"As if you don't already know what I'm talking about. But, _fine_ , I'll be a good little brother and indulge your need to be as difficult as possible," Ryouta rolls his eyes here. "The one who confessed to you. Is it _that_ Senju?"

Madara was too much of a shinobi to react outwardly to Ryouta's accurate guess. He only sets aside his calligraphy brush and stretches in his seat, slowly working out the stubborn kinks in his trapezius to delay his response.

"Why do you say so?"

"It's rather obvious," Ryouta says drily. "After Kazuha was born, the only people who you have interacted with outside the family is the White Demon, Kagami, and Hisako - the midwife, if you've forgotten. From what I've heard, you've had two private meetings with that Senju during this alliance talk. _Two_ meetings, anija. Once is _Happenstance_. Twice is _Coincidence_. Third time is _Enemy Action_. And I'd rather it _not_ become that."

Madara sometimes wishes that Izuna would not rant to Ryouta about _everything_ that _dissatisfies_ him. Izuna, that blabbermouth, had no doubt whined to Ryouta about how his bastard of a rival ( _Izuna's words_ ) had pulled Madara aside at the Senju compound gate and talked for quite some time, and then once more yesterday afternoon.

Well, he should've expected this. Ryouta has always been an astute person. It came with the job of T&I captain, he supposes.

The corner of his lips twitches upwards, bare fingers splayed across the lower half of his face as he observes his little brother's _visually_ relaxed form. Madara would have believed that Ryouta was unconcerned if he did not know his little brother so well.

"Indeed," Madara confirms the teen's conjecture, onyx eyes sharpening at the slight sign of displeasure flashing past Ryouta's face. "With your expertise in mind, what can you tell me concerning his confession?"

"As much as I loathe to praise my enemies, credit should be given when it's due. Senju Tobirama is a genius beyond any comparison, and it makes _tangoing_ with him extremely _aggravating_. To be honest, I haven't the barest idea of what is going through that Senju's head.

"However, I suspect that he is attempting to play mind games with you, anija. It's not that I believe you would be fooled by him that I'm here, I am simply worried that you might be thrown off by his sudden exclamation of _affection_. Just give me the order, anija, and I'll _interrogate_ him for you. _Discreetly_ , of course. Nobody will find out about it and the alliance would not be shaken."

Madara wasn't at all put off by Ryouta's words, having completely understood his brother's logic. If he was currently living his previous life and then-Tobirama suddenly confessed his undying love to then-Izuna or something equally as horrifying, then-Madara would've gone straight to the Senju to rip his balls off and threaten him to never come near his precious little brother again.

Because of that, he only feels touched that Ryouta would go so far for him.

Folding his arms across his chest, he tilts his head slightly and asks in a soft and gentle voice, "Do you trust me, Ryouta?"

"With my life," Was the immediate answer without hesitation.

He closes his eyes and weighs his options.

 _One_ , he could lie. Madara was an _excellent_ liar. He was already keeping many secrets from his family, as such, should it matter if he added another skeleton into his cupboard?

 _Two_ , he could tell the truth. But in turn, he would have to inform Izuna and the twins as well if he shares his and Tobirama's relationship with Ryouta, as it would be unfair if he only reveals that to one of his little brothers.

 _Three_ , he could avoid the topic in general. However, Ryouta would not be distracted or tricked easily, unlike Izuna.

 _Four_ , he keeps his silence and allows Ryouta to come up with something on his own. Although luck would play a big role in this option, and Madara hates leaving his fate to Lady Luck ( _she hasn't been kind to him from the day he was born_ ).

Madara discards option four immediately.

Option three would be troublesome in the long run.

Option one seems to be the easiest, but Madara was _tired_ of being dishonest to his family.

That only left him with option two.

Hopefully, this choice of his would not come to stab him in the back ( _literally_ ). But _if_ it did, Madara feels that he would not come to regret it. It was high time he starts letting his brothers see a side of him they have never seen before. And if it repulses them that he has been cozying up with one of their most hated enemies, Madara just has to live with it. He has made his bed, now he was prepared to lie in it.

"Tobirama was being sincere when he told me he has... _feelings..._ for me. And although I know not if he is just going through a phase right now and those feelings would pass soon, I know that he wasn't lying - since I've known him since he was ten years old," Madara looks away as Ryouta blinks madly at the info bomb dropped on his head.

"We've been having rendezvouses at the creek at the edge of our clans' territory for the past decade, and during that time, I've learned many things about him. I know his favorite foods are grilled fish and blueberry tarts. I know his hobbies are training, reading, and inventing new jutsu. I know that he enjoys that his squinting is always mistaken for anger. I know that when he's nervous, he would tap on the hilt of his sword. I know that when he lies, his voice would be higher in volume but softer in tone.

"Ryouta, I... I am ashamed to admit that I hadn't the will to kill him despite the fact that I knew him to be of Senju origin as soon as I laid my eyes upon his boyish features. Even when Tobirama grew and matured into an exceptional shinobi who has killed many of our clansmen, who has become a threat to our family, I couldn't bring myself to end his life. He is the only friend I have outside of family, Ryouta, and I can't lie to myself - I am fond of him.

"But I know that such sentiments are not a good excuse for this betrayal. I am guilty by associating with the Senju heir, and I would understand if you come to hate me for it, just like how the rest of our clansmen would. I will not hold a grudge, as I very well deserve it."

Madara didn't look up from his hands the entire time, incredibly tensed as he waits for Ryouta's judgment. There was a shift of fabric before a sigh was heard and Ryouta's face appeared directly in his vision. Madara would have flinched backwards if his muscles hadn't been pulled so taut.

"Usually, anija, I find your poor emotional quotient cute and endearing. At time like these, however, I find you to be as daft as Izuna. Do you really think I give a damn who you become friends with? Or _judge_ you for it?" Ryouta drawls, leaning back whilst still keeping eye contact.

If this was any other day, Madara would have been offended. In Ryouta's books, comparing someone to Izuna was the highest of insults. Now, however, he only laughed weakly, unsure of where this was going and how to take Ryouta's words in. Had he just been complimented, insulted, or both?

"I hadn't cared when you placed a seal on my tongue. I hadn't cared when you knocked me out and placed _another_ seal on the back of my skull without my say so. I hadn't cared when you replaced my molar with a false tooth that has _fast-acting poison_ inside. I hadn't cared when you k _illed our father._ I hadn't cared when you _ordered the Purge_. Pray tell, anija, why would I start caring or judging you for those deeds _now_?

"By now, should you not have already known what kind of person I am? Please, anija, _please_ tell me you know who I really am underneath all the smiles and what I care about the most. Because if you give me a wrong response, I will _slap_ you, serious conversation or not."

Madara tilts his head to one side.

 _Yes_ , Madara did know that despite Ryouta's angelic appearance, the younger Uchiha has an apathetic nature. He was many times more dangerous than Izuna, not because he was stronger, but because he was _cruel_. To both enemies and allies. And the only thing he truly cares about was...

"You are my sadistic little brother, and family is what you care about the most."

"Precisely. _Family,_ " Ryouta emphasizes. When the younger saw that his brother still has yet to understand, he continues forcefully. "Other people's opinions matter not to me. If you say you are friends with the White Demon, even if our clansmen scorn you for it and call you a betrayer, _I_ won't. I trust you, anija, so I will accept that the Senju is important to you, but I will continue to mistrust _him_. I'll be at his throat the second he missteps."

Madara hides his face in his wrists, and if the sleeves of his yukata felt damp after he presses his eyes against them, then it must have been his mind playing tricks on him again. He didn't bother to hide the relief from his expression, nor stop himself from flinging himself over the desk just to hug the living soul out of his brother.

" _Thank you_ , Ryouta. Thank you so much." _For being alive this time. For trusting me. For accepting who I am. For always having my back._

"O... Ok... You... You're... we-wel...come... J-just... pl... _please_... let... go... yo-you're ki... _killing_... me..."

Madara squeezes tighter, ignoring the dying sounds Ryouta was making. No way was he releasing his brother anytime soon. If he lets go now, Madara wouldn't be able to hide the tears welling in his eyes again.

It took a while for Madara to calm down, but once he did, Ryouta heaves a sigh of relief and sat next to Madara on the floor, all but leaning on his older brother.

"So, what're your thoughts on his _declaration of love_?" The last part was said with a sneer, skillfully hidden by the shadows of Ryouta's hair. Madara was blissfully ignorant to his little brother's many schemes of leaving Tobirama _frustrated_ in more than one way.

"I'm still in the midst of... processing his confession, to be honest. As you know, I am wholly unfamiliar with the concept of romantic relationships and thought it best to ask our family's expert. _Clearly_ , I was wrong. I honestly did not expect Izuna to react the way he did."

"It's not surprising," Ryouta sighs as he rubs his temples. "Sorry to say this, anija, but Izuna has a rather fierce and unreasonable protective streak when it comes to you. I've seen him _skewer_ a civilian who had eyed your ass for one second too long during our previous outing together. It was _really_ bad, anija - I had to bribe a ton of samurai law enforcement officers to turn a blind eye to the crazy Uchiha shinobi who was cackling over a bloodied corpse."

Madara looks at Ryouta as if he was crazy.

"Ryouta," he talks slowly as if speaking to a rather dimwitted child. "I wear nothing but _baggy_ clothing. It would take someone who could _literally_ see through clothes to see _any_ parts of me."

"That's what you think, anija. Unfortunately, you tend to walk on rooftops during our trips to the Capital. And sometimes, when the wind pressure is _just right_ , your, and I quote a passing civilian, ' _perfectly sculptured ass_ ' end quote, is put on display for those walking on the streets underneath you. _Now_ do you understand why Izuna always nags at you to wear your longest haori whenever we take a vacation to the Capital?"

Madara, without another word, grabs his brother by the collar and all but throws the little shite out his window and, rather _conveniently_ , directly into the koi pond, usually reserved for Izuna. Ryouta sputters, which soon turns into full-blown shrieking. Madara smiles evilly as he sees the koi fishes nipping angrily at the human invading their territory, some had even managed to swim into Ryouta's thin yukata.

"Now, off to bed with you, otouto. We have a long day ahead of us. Oh, and you should really stop swimming in such chilly weather. We wouldn't want you to catch a cold now, do we?" Madara says sweetly, his words coated in sarcastic honey.

Ryouta, so unlike himself, begins letting out profanities as he crawls out of the pond, looking much like a disgruntled wet kitten.

Happy to see _someone else_ miserable, Madara retrieves his hidden stash of saké and his knitting basket and gets comfortable on the windowsill. It was time for him to mull over the various reactions he would receive once he tells Izuna about Tobirama and Madara being friends.

Funnily enough, Madara has all buts forgotten about Tobirama's confession once daylight hits.

* * *

 **A/N:**

It's weird how I've drifted so far away from the original draft that I'm now lost at sea. Tobirama wasn't supposed to confess before Konoha was built! Ryouta wasn't supposed to know about Dara and Tobira being childhood friends this early into the game! Gosh, what a mess. I know how the story will end, but how does one reach from point C to Z, again? (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) Plot Bunnies, _what is my life_?

Anyway, I hope you guys have learned more about Ryouta after this (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ.

Please, tell me your thoughts.


	30. Chapter 30

Kawarama didn't bother to disguise his blatant staring, his pair of chocolate brown eyes had sharpened as they assess the person sitting to his left. For one, Tobirama did not seem to notice the weight of his gaze; which was a _first_ for his paranoid, always on guard second older brother. To Kawarama's eyes, it looked like Tobirma had been practically _living_ inside his head since breakfast.

If Kawarama wasn't disturbed by how weird the older Senju had been acting during their journey to the Uchiha compound, he would be _now_. Never has he seen Tobirama without a frown or a scowl on his face before. It was downright bizarre, actually, especially after that impressive display of melancholy during their depressing journey.

While nibbling on the tip of his brush, Kawarama finds it hard to tear his gaze from Tobirama's face, softened by the lack of frown lines as the older Senju read through a drafted version of the treaty. And with nobody and nothing else inside the main tent to distract him from the odd picture non-scowling Tobirama made, Kawarama could not help but notice how much younger his brother looked right now.

Shaking his head at the random thoughts he was having, his eyes returned to his own version of the draft, written from top to bottom by their clan's leading arch nemesis ( _with haphazard doodles of venus flytraps at the edges drawn by yours truly, of course_ ).

 _Uchiha Madara sure does have some neat handwriting_ , his mind comments idly.

It also kind of reminds him of Mito's, if he squints at the right angle. There was just _something_ about the way the characters align that made Kawarama think of Fūinjutsu. But that was impossible. The Uchiha clan aren't allied with the Uzumaki clan, and thus, should not have any access to high-end Fūinjutsu scrolls and/or tutors. Even basic storage scrolls were hard to find in the market. So why does the way these characters were written remind Kawarama so much of those proficient, Uzumaki Fūinjutsu masters?

Realizing that he was, yet again, distracted by something random, Kawarama couldn't help but frown.

For these past few months, it had been getting _progressively_ _harder_ for Kawarama to concentrate on anything or meditate to clear his mind ( _yesterday and today have been a blessing for him, however. His mind, for once, quiet_ ). Perhaps the stress was getting to him and he should release all the excess energy by sparring with Itama, but he would rather not if he could. Whoever had taught his little brother how to fight must surely be an escaped resident of a loony bin, because _clearly_ , they have a problem with their head. Only an insane person would teach Itama how to crack someone's skull open with a flick of a finger.

 _Who would teach healers how to fight, anyway?_ Kawarama mentally complaints. _Or rather, who would teach an excellent_ male _shinobi how to become a pansy healer?_ Clearly, there was something _wrong_ with Itama's 'mysterious' shishou for encouraging a little boy to have dreams about healing rather than killing. The former was a woman's job, dammit!

His glare soon found their way to Tobirama's straight-back figure.

In Kawarama's opinion, _everything_ was Tobirama's fault. If their family's ice queen had not convinced their father to allow Itama some space to grow into his talents in the first place, their little brother would not have become a swishy healer.

In the first place, _how_ _exactly_ did Tobirama even find a skilled teacher outside the clan for Itama? Or how had he convinced _father_ ( _strict, unbending father_ ) to allow an _unknown_ and potentially dangerous person to teach Itama? They don't even know who this teacher was or what clan they hailed from or how skilled they were at the art of Iryō Ninjutsu. Even after all these years!

Although Itama now has a reputation as The Legendary Healer, Kawarama was still pissed that Itama chose to have such a pansy designation. Was he not ashamed of purposefully undertaking a female's job? Curse Tobirama for putting such stupid ideas into Itama's head.

Ah, right. Speaking of Tobirama, Kawarama has a feeling that he was missing a _crucial_ piece in the puzzle about his brother. And he would _not_ rest until he figures out what it was. And in order to dissolve this nagging sensation in his gut, Kawarama would try to dig for the cause of this very _un_ -Tobirama-like behavior via his normal means; _chatting_.

Disguises and espionage have always been Kawarama's forte, and he has succeeded in _many_ covert infiltration missions over the years. The only difficulty he would be facing during this subtle interrogation would be that Tobirama wasn't like his normal targets, as the ice queen was far too intelligent for his own good.

"You appear to be in a good mood. Did something interesting happen?"

Kawarama made sure that his tone remains lackluster as he shuffles through a stack of documents, not bothering to look away from the scrolls even when he feels those eerie red eyes ( _insert shudder_ ) on his person; as if he wasn't really interested in the answer but was asking anyway because of boredom.

"Perhaps it is _I_ who should be asking _you_ that question, Kawarama," Tobirama drawled. "It isn't often that you deem it significant to open a conversation with me. Has something noteworthy happened to have garnered your curiosity?"

The 'chat' has only just begun and Tobirama was _already_ in the midst of _twisting_ their position around, casually steering their conversation to be about _Kawarama_ rather than himself with an ease that took Kawarama _years_ to master. How utterly _infuriating_.

Fortunately for Kawarama, he has already prepared for this; having predicted that Tobirama would be tight-lipped and distant even with family ( _'cold-hearted bastard that he is', an echo of a voice said in his mind, piercing yet dim, as if it wasn't really there but he was too used to its commentaries to notice_ ).

Kawarama shrugs his shoulders and turns to Tobirama while playfully rolling his eyes, ensuring that his body language remains lax and open as he tries to subtly take the reins again, "You being in a good mood while in Uchiha land, _duh_. I think that's enough of a reason to make anyone curious, no?"

"Indeed?" Tobirama hums dispassionately, lazily shifting to rest his chin atop a fist with his eyes half-lidded as he inspects another scroll, looking blatantly disinterested in furthering their exchange. "I suppose that paperwork has always had a calming effect on my bearing. To say that I appear to be in a buoyant mood _is_ rather unexpected to hear, however - _though_ it is rather understandable for _others_ to mistaken my lack of expression with that of contentment."

It took a while for his mind to remove all those excessively big words and restructure them into easier-to-understand phrases. After it did, Kawarama could feel a boiling need to puke blood. Truly _infuriating_.

If Kawarama was a lesser man, he would have already been gnashing his teeth at the lack of enthusiasm his brother was _obviously_ broadcasting, as well as the not-so-subtle jab at his new habit of avoiding Tobirama; started not a few months back. Brothers, they may be, but Kawarama and Tobirama's relationship was beginning to take a deep dive into an active volcano.

Of course, it wasn't Kawarama's fault. Tobirama was entirely to blame for behaving so suspiciously as of late.

Rather than showing his irritation, however, Kawarama made a show of grumbling petulantly, "You're my big brother. Can't I take interest in what makes you happy? Why do you have to make it sound as if I don't care about you?"

"Because you haven't as of late," Kawarama could only gape at the other Senju's blunt ( _and factual_ ) accusation, said in a dispassionate monotone. "However, when you put it in that way, _I suppose_ I could set aside a minute or two of my time for my dearest little brother."

With that, the ice queen _finally_ sets aside his brush and turns to Kawarama with an indulgent expression on his stoic face ( _or so Kawarama assumes since his brother's expression was still as cold as an ice statue_ ), though it was painfully destroyed by the condescending tone he had used.

Kawarama could feel his blood pressure rise at the blatant sarcasm rolling off of Tobirama's tongue, and all he could do to remain calm was to remind himself of his objective, his _very important_ objective. He finally has Tobirama's attention. It would not do to lose his temper _now_ , of all times.

After taking a deep inhale, he forces his lips into a brotherly smile.

"Thanks, I guess," Kawarama shrugs, discreetly forcing down the tensed lines of his shoulders to retain his appearance of relaxed. "So, care to tell the class why you're so cheerful this morning? Did something exciting happen?"

"Does something have to happen for me to be in a good mood? Am I not allowed to be, as you so eloquently put it, cheerful, once in a while for no apparent reason?"

... and Tobirama was doing it again; answering a question with another question. Kawarama couldn't help it. He deadpanned.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Kawarama accused while trying not to sound as if he _was_ accusing. If anyone was wondering, _yes_ , he was failing badly at it.

"And what, exactly, am I doing on purpose?" That condescending tone was back again but this time, it was with one white brow raised.

" _That_! You're doing it again!" At Tobirama's calm silence, Kawarama has no choice but to play along and elaborates with clenched teeth. "Answering a question with another question, _brother dear._ "

The other white brow joined the other. Tobirama's ice queen persona and haughty disposition were really starting to get on his nerves. Rather, it had fried so many of his pet peeves that Kawarama has to wonder how he hadn't exploded just yet.

"I have always been like this, Kawarama _._ You should have known that by now," Tobirama pauses, his lips curving into a mocking smile. "Or have you recently developed retrograde amnesia these past few months? What has driven you to forget all of my mannerisms, Kawarama? This is... disconcerting, to say the least. Are you in need of assistance, little brother?"

Again with those backhanded comments! Sage damn it! Why was Tobirama so keen to throw shade at him, anyway?! Kawarama's head hurt from thinking about the way his brother talks. Or rather, it was beginning to get harder and harder to concentrate now - as if someone had rattled his head with a sledgehammer.

Suddenly, as if he had just been struck by a carriage, Kawarama was reminded of the fact that Tobirama has _always_ been a _vindictive_ bastard. All of this grievances he was receiving was _probably_ due to all of the pranks he had dropped onto his brother's bleached head and the _borrowed_ items he had lost.

"Are you being difficult on purpose? If this is about that red sword I borrowed from you..." He tested tentatively, unsure if he had metaphorically stepped onto Tobirama's toe with that question, but at the same time, confident that he must be wrong.

After all, it had been _ages_ since that incident. His brother has a lot of weapons, anyway. A mere sword, especially if it was something Kawarama suspects had been looted from an enemy, shouldn't be _that_ important ( _despite Itama's nagging that that red sword was a gift from Tobirama's beloved. As if his ice queen of an older brother has the heart to fall in love. That was laughable at best_ ).

When Tobirama pretends to think for a moment, Kawarama was immediately on high alert. After a while, the palpable tension was broken at Tobirama firm nod, not at all denying that he was just being a petty bastard for holding onto such a stupid grudge for so long.

He grumbled angrily.

"Kawarama, you-" Tobirama seems to forcefully cut himself off by biting his bottom lip. A frown appeared in between his brows, but they disappeared just as fast as they appeared. "I was beginning to worry that there has only been hot air inside that head of yours," Before he could so much as to throw a fit at that _utterly_ _unnecessary_ and _mean_ opinion about his intelligence, Tobirama picks up his brush and returns to his scrolls, but not before dealing the verbal _death blow_ to his ego as an infiltrator. "If only your desire to return me my Akabane is as _burning_ as your desire to _interrogate_ me. I try my best to give you the benefit of the doubt, little brother, but it is of no surprise that you continue to disappoint me. Unfortunately, it has become a rather familiar feeling as of late. Now if you would excuse me, I have paperwork to go through."

Knowing a dismissal when he hears one, Kawarama didn't hesitate to storm out of the main tent with clenched fists and a tight jaw, the brush in his hand had long shattered. He knows that if he had stayed any longer, he would have committed a foolish act of attacking their clan's heir. It would have labeled him as a blood and clan traitor - and what good would that do when he was trying to catch the _real_ traitor red-handed?

He would take a step back for now, but soon enough, he would figure out what Tobirama was hiding. And if his suspicions about Tobirama and Madara were confirmed to be true, he would take action. Brother or not, Kawarama would not tolerate betrayal.

Unfortunately, he was too blinded by rage and suspicion to notice the pair of red eyes, full of upset and worry, drill into the back of his head as he took to the rooftops, along with a pair of crimson eyes and three tomoes doing the same, but with alarm and dismay.

* * *

Madara had been minding his own business, drinking saké by the windowsill on his lonesome and watching how the surface of the pond has slowly been turning a beautiful shade of orange as the sun rises when he jolts to a stand, the wards having sent him an alarm; alerting him of Zetsu's fleeting presence.

An unpleasant chill was crawling up his spine as he bundles Kazuha into his arms and swiftly ran into Ryouta's bedroom. He didn't bother to say anything, only handing his startled little brother the now-crying infant and fled through the window.

As soon as his feet touched the grassy ground, he leaped onto the rooftops and rushes towards the direction of where his wards had sensed Zetsu, his own chakra compressed to its limits. Better safe than sorry.

Another sense into the general area of Zetsu's appearance made Madara _almost_ trip on his own feet. Why Tobirama's chakra signature was within _touching_ distance from the flare concerns him _greatly_. Anxiety made his mind conjure an image of Tobirama being possessed by Zetsu, which made him push himself to run faster.

It took a few tries to shake off the nerves and compartmentalize those dreadful thoughts away, but he manages whilst pulling out his gunbai from his storage seal tattoo and lands silently atop the main tent's roof. He senses Tobirama and another person inside, their chakra familiar to Madara but _not quite_ as well.

It didn't take long for the other chakra to spike ever-so-slightly, becoming agitated and muddled - a distinct sign that Zetsu had _latched_ firmly onto their mind and was beginning to play puppet master. After a moment, Madara was alarmed to see that the familiar chakra belonged to Kawarama, the adolescent having thrown himself out of the main tent, face flushed red with anger as he rushed off into the direction of the compound's main gate.

His teeth had bitten the bottom of his lip so hard that Madara wasn't at all surprised to taste blood in his mouth. Dismayed at the discovery that Zetsu's victim was someone he couldn't just kill, Madara clenches his eyes shut.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_!

To have Zetsu penetrate through his defensive wards after only a day meant that Kawarama has been its host for quite some time. It could have been _years_ , for all Madara knows. What a miscalculation! For him to have forgotten to secure _Hashirama's_ family with protection seals from Zetsu was a lapse of judgment and a basic mistake that could potentially cost him _everything_.

Hashirama had been his _brother_ from another life, _for Sage's sake_ , and he _knows_ that Zetsu was after one of them in order to use them to put the Juubi back together again and free Kaguya from the moon. He knows all of it ( _despite how he was struggling desperately to stay alive 'inside' of Kaguya, he was aware of what was happening 'outside'_ ), yet he hadn't taken steps to protect Hashirama, _his then-best friend._

"You stupid piece of _self-centered_ shite, Uchiha Madara!" He hisses angrily to himself as he uses his right hand, bare of gloves in his haste to eliminate the dangerous threat, to cover his clammy and pale face. He needed to think of a plan to fix this, _stat_!

 _["No, Madara, you're not the savior... and it's over."]_

He throws his gunbai, uncaring of the noise it made when it landed somewhere in his haste to press a palm against his chest, right over his heart; where it throbbed angrily at the phantom sensation of a hand penetrating through his left shoulder blade and exiting through the front of his chest.

 _["Yes... The stone monument left by Hagoromo. I changed its text. I wrote that the Infinite Tsukuyomi is what would save the Uchiha."]_

Madara fought to breathe through the nauseating pull of his gut, through the taste of metal on his tongue, through the echo of the _fucking_ _voice_ whispering manipulations in his head.

 _["When Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama became transmigrants... I was certain... that Madara could do it. And that it'd be my first step in my mother's revival."]_

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" He growls, his whole body trembling from the onslaught of memories as he claws angrily at his chest.

 _[_ _"For shinobi, Madara's corpse was like a treasure box. Tobirama, who was studying the Sharingan... decided not to dispose of the body..."]_

"He should have... He should have..." Madara mumbles deliriously, unaware of his surroundings and how he had fallen to his knees. At the tentative touch of a hand on his bicep, Madara dazedly looks up, the dilated pupils of his Mangekyō Sharingan meeting narrow red eyes. "You _should have disposed_ of _me, Tobirama_."

Without any warning, Madara abruptly collapses with his eyes rolled to the back of his head and blood leaking from his tear ducts. Whilst his exhausted body rests from the effects of pushing itself well over its physical limits after the suicidal stunt Madara had pulled following Kazuha's birth, his mind was filled with never-ending memories of his past and present remorse.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Oh, snap. I wonder what's gonna happen next? Any thoughts?


	31. Chapter 31

Itama slowly came to a halt in front of the intimidating double wooden gates with a giant uchiwa painted on it, smiling nervously at the guards he sees watching him at their post on the watchtower. He avoids directly looking into their dazzling Sharingan orbs, knowing better than to hold their sharp gaze.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he parts his lips while revealing a crumpled letter in his hands, "I am Senju Itama. Uchiha Ryouta-sa...- _ma_ invited me over."

The guards whispered to each other, their lips barely moving before one of them jumps down and strides confidently towards him.

' _The guards sure are pretty_ ' he couldn't help but take notice, all pale skin, delicate features, and lithe figures, the opposite of many Senju who were olive-toned, sharp-featured, and broad-shouldered. Not as good looking as his shishou, obviously, but definitely above average. It increased their intimidation factor. Beautiful people do that, he reckons. Roses have their thorns.

When the guard stopped just two steps away, Itama politely nods at the shorter man and hands him the letter. While the guard scans the contents with his intimidating kekkei genkai, Itama inwardly whines about how Dara-shishou would have his skin for acting so timidly.

But he couldn't help it.

Their clans have been warring for _centuries_. Other than Dara-shishou, other Uchiha shinobi scare the living crap out of him, having never personally met any of them outside the frontlines, where bloodlust and killing intent dominated the entire field.

Itama was a field medic, never once has he attended his clan's council meetings. Although he was the head of his department, he was often too busy and left it to his assistant. Hence, he has no prior experience in any diplomatic settings. Even now, he was clueless about what to do after having handed the letter over.

Should he say something else?

Thankfully, before he could do something that would make Dara-shishou dropkick him out of sheer embarrassment for having a dunce for a disciple, the guard made a hand signal and the giant wooden gates part.

"I'll guide you to where Ryouta-sama is. Stay close, Senju. Do anything and..." The guard made a cutthroat gesture to emphasize his warning. Itama swallows nervously with a nod, Adam's apple bobbing. Seeing such a delicate, pretty man do something so vicious, in a way, was scary. With Uchihas, one can never trust their outer appearance.

Dara-shishou and this guard were such examples.

As they were walking through the compound, he discreetly observes the people in their surroundings. There didn't seem to be many children out and about, but he reckons it has something to do with his clan's presence intruding upon their home. As for the ones who were, all of them seemed trained, even if it was slightly, and within an adult's reach.

They were cute little tykes, too. With big, innocent eyes and chubby cheeks. Super adorable!

Tobi-nii and Hashi-nii would have loved to play with them. Kawa-nii, though, dislikes children younger than fifteen ( _despite being 16_ ), thinking them too immature and bratty. Itama could only sigh at that, seeing that Kawa-nii was an immature brat himself. He loves his third older brother, but sometimes, the urge to clothesline him to high heavens was high, especially as of late. There was just something... _wrong_ about Kawa-nii. Puberty, maybe?

"Ryouta-sama is waiting inside." The voice of his pretty guard guide snaps him out of his musing.

Itama turns to smile at the Uchiha, bowing politely. "Thank you, Uchiha-san."

"Hn," was the gruff response before the man gestured impatiently for him to get a move on.

Itama enters the two-story building and, on habit, switches his sandals for an indoor guest slipper, which, cutely enough, has a smiling crocodile design. He laughs at that.

"Madara-ani was the one who made them. Comfortable, aren't they?"

Itama starts, unaware that another person had been observing him.

He bows quickly to whom he presumes to be Ryouta, Dara-shishou's second younger brother. When he straightens his back, he simultaneously did a quick sweep of the interior and his host, who was wearing a beige haori atop a plain black yukata and a pair of smiling lion slippers ( _was that an Uchiha thing? To wear cute animal slippers indoors?_ ).

Uchiha Ryouta was short for a 16-year-old boy, standing only at 5ft 3inches. Itama himself was a year younger but a foot taller. Or perhaps he shouldn't compare an Uchiha to a Senju. From what he has witnessed while walking through the compound thus far, the majority of the men weren't taller than 5ft 7inches, which was considered short for a Senju man. Even Touka-chan was taller!

Ryouta had his ebony long hair tied up in a high ponytail, the ends sweeping his lower back and bangs falling over his forehead. And whereas Dara-shishou has sharp almond-shaped eyes, Ryouta's corners were more circular, his thick eyelashes and straight eyebrows making him appear gentle. Add in his dimples and round, plump lips, Uchiha Ryouta could be depicted as an angel.

If Itama didn't know any better, he wouldn't have believed the person standing in front of him was older than him - or a shinobi!

"Do you fancy a drawing? It'll last longer," Ryouta says, his tone gentle and expression soft. Yet, Itama could feel chills running down his spine. He shudders.

Rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture, Itama inwardly jots a ' _DANGEROUS_ ' next to Ryouta's name. Despite the angelic aura Ryouta was full-on emitting, Itama knows that he would need to watch his back with this one. Actually, didn't Dara-shishou say something about Ryouta being in charge of T&I?

Again, Itama shudders.

"S-sorry," he meeps while wiping the sweat from his forehead, hoping to log that his staring had not angered the Uchiha. "I'm Itama, Senju Itama."

"Uchiha Ryouta. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I've heard a lot about you, Senju-sensei. You are quite the healer from what I've gathered."

"Hahaha... I'm still learning. And please, call me Itama."

"Modest too, I see. Not a bad quality for a medic to have, _Itama_ -sensei." Ryouta's voice turned so sugar-sweet that it gave him chills, especially when the Uchiha purred out his name like that.

"U-uh, thank you?" Deciding that he should _really_ avoid being alone with Ryouta any longer, he immediately goes straight to the point. "In the letter, you said something about Tobirama-nii asking for me?"

"Indeed. If you would follow me, I'll guide you to Tobirama-san. He is with Izuna-nii right now, so it would be wise if we do not dally."

With that, Ryouta turns on his heels and moves deeper into the house, all grace and confidence. Itama quickly catches up, his longer strides doing him a huge favor.

They arrive shortly outside a bedroom on the second floor.

Ryouta slides the door open and strides in with Itama following just a step behind. What greets him was a group of people surrounding Dara-shishou, who was tucked into a futon, his cheeks flushed from what seems to be a high fever and a wet rag folded on his forehead.

Tobi-nii was seated at Dara-shishou's left ( _where's Kawa-nii?_ ), while Izuna ( _who looked mighty irritated yet worried_ ) and two younger Uchiha twins ( _Takumi and Yakumi, was it?_ ) were at his right. Behind Izuna was a Moses baby basket with a sleeping infant inside. Regretfully, Itama didn't get a good look at the tiny thing since he was swiftly ushered towards Dara-shishou by his guide. Idly, he wonders if Izuna had just become a father.

Seeing Dara-shishou up close, however, made him forget all about those idle thoughts, immediately turning serious. He took over Tobi-nii's seat, with his brother now leaning against the wall behind him and Ryouta behind the twins.

Frowning, he asks, "What happened?" Itama places a tentative hand on Dara-shishou's clammy neck, eyebrows furrowing deeper at the high temperature he feels. The hand moves lower to rest on his mentor's chest, glowing green as he performs a diagnostic sign jutsu.

Itama narrows his eyes warning at Izuna when he saw how his action has caused the Uchiha to tense in preparation to pounce on him.

Despite how meek he had been just moments ago with Ryouta, he wouldn't hesitate to break Izuna's legs if he became a hindrance to healing Dara-shishou. When it comes to his patients ( _his loved ones especially_ ), he has no mercy towards those who interrupt his work.

It was Tobirama who responds to his query, breaking the stilted silence that had appeared after his glare, "I found him outside the main tent, dazed and incoherent. He collapsed soon after without proper cause."

"So you keep fucking saying," Izuna growls. "Who knows if you were the cause of this."

"Stop antagonizing him, Izuna-nii. One more dumb word from you and I won't remain courteous," Ryouta rebukes sharply, smile long gone as he gazes coldly at his second older brother.

Izuna's expression turned ugly at the reprimand. Itama was expecting him to blow up from being scolded by someone younger than him, but unexpectedly, he didn't. The second Uchiha brother only drew in a deep breath before loudly exhaling, shoulders loosening.

The twins, young little things they were, huddle deeper into their big brother's side, their faces pale from worry. Izuna hugs their shoulders in return, physically composing himself to comfort them. Itama approves. That was how a big brother should act - prioritizing their younger siblings' well-being.

"My supplies are stored inside a storage scroll in my pouch. Will all of you remain where you are when I pull it out, or will we have a problem?" Itama asks seriously, knowing how paranoid and jumpy shinobi could be.

Ryouta waves a hand, completely relaxed. "It is of no issue. Do what you must, Itama-sensei. My brothers will cause you no trouble." Izuna nods, albeit jerkily, and the twins followed his example.

Seeing that Ryouta has his brothers handled, Itama didn't hesitate to retrieve his storage scroll and poofed his supplies into existence.

He prepares his equipment while simplifying his findings.

"Da- _Madara_ -sama has a temperature of 42°C, a blood pressure of 148/95mmHg, a heart rate of 120 beats per minute, and a respiration rate of 25 breaths per minute. First, we'll need to lower his temperature. If it goes any higher than 42.4°C, it can cause long-lasting adverse effects. By lowering his fever, his BP, HR, and RR will hopefully return back to normal. Excuse me, but can I ask one of you to grab a thinner blanket, a jug of cool water, glass and straw, as well as a basin of warm water?"

While Itama went ahead to remove the blanket that was covering Dara-shishou, rolls up his left sleeve, and ties a tourniquet around his bicep ( _it felt wrong how unresponsive Dara-shishou was_ ), it was the twins that hurried off to retrieve the requested items.

When the two 10-year-olds returned, Itama has already set up an IV stand which holds a bag of normal saline infused with a calculated dose of acetaminophen. All that was left was to insert an IV cannula into Dara-shishou's dorsal arch vein.

"Thank you," he smiles kindly at them. One of the boys returned his smile while the other ducked behind Ryouta. They were cute.

After making sure that the site and his hands were cleaned, he performs the procedure with professional and steady hands.

"We'll leave the drip going for 15 minutes and check to see if he needs another dose in four hours. For now, we need to keep him hydrated and fed. Ryouta-san, can I ask you to prepare a nutritional broth for him?"

"Will chicken broth suffice?"

"Yes."

"Very well."

Ryouta left with the baby basket in hand and one of the twins chasing after him.

"Izuna-san-"

Itama was cut off by a fierce scowl before he could request anything, "I'm not leaving."

"Very well," Itama didn't bother to argue, knowing how protective a family member can be towards their sick relative. "Then, may I ask your younger brother..." he trails off, looking cooly at Izuna to fill in the blank.

It took a moment, but Izuna finally gritted out stubbornly, "... Takumi."

"... Takumi-kun to bring some towels, a basin of tepid water, and a change of clothes - something thin?"

"Why?" Izuna glares, eyes full of suspicion.

"I'll need to give Madara-sama a sponge bath-"

"No."

"Izuna-sa-"

"No."

"This needs to-"

" _NO_!"

Itama bites his lower lip, fists bunching the fabric of his pants in a way that would help him resist the urge to punch Izuna's face in. Damn it. He made the wrong choice. He should've asked Izuna to prepare the broth, not Ryouta. Should he knock Izuna out?

"Pathetic, Izuna. Can you be anymore petulant? Did Ryouta-san not tell you to _stop_ being obstructive?" Tobi-nii drawled.

Izuna immediately snaps his glare towards Tobi-nii, a spike of KI radiating from the Uchiha. "You want to repeat that, eh, fuckweed?"

"You are being obstructive. Madara-"

"Don't speak his name with that rotten mouth of yours, Senju! The fuck you think you are?! Coming into _MY_ house, acting like yoU'RE ALL THAT, _HUH_?! I'LL FUCKIN-"

"IZUNA-NII!" Unexpectedly, it was Takumi who shouted over Izuna's loud voice. The youngest in the room was tugging at his brother's sleeve, teary-eyed. "L-Listen to the nice healer, please, nii-san. Ani-ue needs to get better. He _needs_ to. Okay, nii-san? Please? For ani-ue?"

Izuna's expression did a 180, KI dissipating in an instant. His onyx eyes softened as he gazes at his younger brother, tone gentle and apologetic, "Sorry, Takumi. I didn't mean to frighten you. Were you scared?"

It was obvious that the boy was scared, but he still shook his head and responded with a quavery, "N-no, I wasn't scared. I just want ani-ue to get better." The second eldest Uchiha brother was nodding along with his words, hands smoothening over the younger boy's trembling arms.

"He'll get better. Aniki is strong. A mere fever won't keep him down for long. Do you want to go grab the things the nice healer requested?"

"... Okay. But will nii-san behave?" The cute boy looks up warily at his brother.

"Of course," Izuna laughs. "Now, go get them. I'll be here to keep an eye on aniki."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

With that, Takumi quickly rushes to get the items.

Itama, on the other hand, was sending his own brother disapproving stares, before turning to Izuna to try and explain why it was important that they give Dara-shishou a sponge bath. It took a bit of convincing ( _he was so very tempted to punch him_ ), but Izuna finally agreed after a while, though he insisted on staying in the room just in case.

Seeing that everything was _finally_ settled, he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Izuna's _too darn overprotective_.

When Takumi returned, he places all the items next to Itama before running off. Tobi-nii excuses himself then, knowing that Itama would have shooed him out to retain his patient's privacy, anyway. Mumbling a soft 'excuse me', Itama starts to undress his mentor.

His hands remained thoroughly professional as he baths his patient, easily ignoring Izuna's eyes that never left his person.

* * *

As Itama sips his tea, he couldn't help but wonder out loud, "Why didn't you ask a healer from your clan to look at Madara-sama?" Tobi-nii was currently sparring with Izuna right now while the twins were nursing Dara-shishou, so only the two of them ( _plus the baby_ ) remained in the dining area.

Ryouta only smiles mysteriously, his tone gentle when he responds, "Being anija's student, should you not know that he loathes strangers invading his personal space?"

Itama did a spit-take, spraying tea all over the table, "E-eh? H- _how_?!" Suddenly, as if _just_ realizing that he has just admitted to a _huge_ secret, he quickly tries to say otherwise, "I-I mean, _noooooo_... What are you talking about? Hahaha...ha..."

"Silly. You should find better ways to hide that seal on your forehead. Simply hiding it behind your hair isn't enough."

Ryouta stretches out a hand to poke him on the forehead. His cheeks flush a bright red as he quickly wipes his chin, embarrassed about his reaction and apologizing softly for the _spill_. He hopes that Ryouta couldn't hear the intense beating of his heart - that would make him wish for the tatami mats to open up and swallow him whole.

"This could've been a tattoo, not a seal..." He mumbles dejectedly.

"You need to work on your poker face, _Itama_ - _sensei,_ " Ryouta laughs, a sound that was like chiming bells. it made his ears feel hot.

"Y-Yeah."

"If you ever need help," Ryouta suddenly leans forward, plump lips whispering words into his reddish ears. "You can always come to me. I only bite when requested."

Itama squeaks at the feeling of a wet _something_ glide over the shell of his ear.

His face _burned_ as he stutters some kind of excuse he couldn't remember and ran out of the dining area as if his ass was on fire. All the while, he could hear Ryouta's angelic laugh echoing in his mind. He touches his ear, shivering at the remembrance of the sensation.

Definitely a dangerous person.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Happy new year, guys! It's 2020~! What a beautiful number (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*).

Okay... So... How's the chapter (*´∀`*)? I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'm sorry for the late update. What are your thoughts on Ryouta ( _super S_ ) and Itama ( _trembling M_ )? Should that ship sink, or should it sail?

See you next chapter!


	32. Chapter 32

When Madara wakes up blinking, it was with watery eyes at the sunlight peeking around the curtains. He would've groaned, but shinobi training made him stifle his need to voice his discomfort.

Contrary to his habits, his arousal from sleep was slow and it took a few moments for his eyes to adapt and realize that he was in his bed-chamber, alone. As soon as they did, he braces himself into a seated position, starting when a damp cloth flopped onto his blanket-covered lap from his forehead.

Madara couldn't remember going to bed, _which_ wasn't a good sign.

The only time that this would happen was when he fainted from sheer exhaustion or sickness. Though judging from the damp cloth, it would be the latter this time. The sluggish movements of his chakra flow, the heaviness of his limbs, and the pounding in his head also suggest that he hadn't recovered enough to avoid bed rest.

Madara rolls his eyes. As if he would allow something so inconsequential to keep him in bed, anyway. He has too much to do.

( _He needs to find a way to kill-_ help _Kawarama. He needs to plan a countermeasure to keep Zetsu from digging its claws into another Senju's mind. He needs to attend meetings with the Senju delegates. He needs to check inventory and budget. He needs to read through his pile of letters and assign missions to his men. He needs to write a response to the shogun soon. He needs to assure his brothers that he was fine now. He needs to-_ )

Already, he was out of his futon and walking sluggishly towards the door, having to bite back his pride and depend heavily on the walls as a crutch. Disregarding his blurred and spinning vision, he just needs a moment to adjust and he would be okay again.

He slides the door open and walks straight into a wall, nose smashed as he unintentionally let out a soft noise in surprise. Momentarily dazed, his reaction to something unexpected was to take a step back, which, with how uncoordinated and muddled headed he currently was, meant that he tripped over his ankle in the process.

Whilst inwardly cursing whoever dared to place a block of brick to obstruct his exit, Madara expects to fall on his arse or something along those lines. What he got was an arm that snaked around his waist to pull him flush against a muscular body.

Madara reacted instantaneously by blindly punching the throat of whoever it was that had grabbed him, with whatever amount of chakra he could manage pooled at his fist to give him a better chance at crushing his enemy's windpipe in one blow.

His wrist was, however, unfortunately, caught. Before he could bring forth more violence, his interloper flares their chakra.

Belatedly sensing the familiar chakra signature, Madara halts all attacks and docilely slumps further into Tobirama's hold, digging his face in as if trying to mold himself into his friend's chest. He couldn't find it within himself to care about how embarrassingly needy he was behaving. Tobirama makes a good bolster. Solid, warm, and comfortable. He was completely at ease as he balances his chin on the muscled chest to peer at Tobirama through his lashes. The albino's face was akin to rippled water in a blob of white.

His head was beginning to throb harder and his limbs felt like jelly after having exerted himself. Madara airily reasons that a short break would fix this. Just for a minute.

Eyelids flutter shut as he falls into Morpheus's embrace, trusting Tobirama to keep watch. The arms holding him upright tightened as if to agree with his mental assessment.

* * *

Madara trustingly settles against his chest with a soft snuffle.

It was utterly adorable.

"You, Uchiha Madara, are such a tease. At times like this, I speculate about the quality of your self-preservation instincts. Most would take this as an invitation." Tobirama sighed in exasperated fondness. Madara was a frustrating man. Whenever he acted this way, docile and soft, Tobirama couldn't help but be left _wanting_.

He pictures soft lips on his, milky white thighs wrapped around his hips, and leather-gloved hands clawing up his back and- wants to headbutt a wall to get rid of those images. Or take a cold shower. Either way, he knows that it would be years to reach that stage. But he would wait. Madara was worth it. He just needed to be patient with his courting, go delicately slow as to not scare Madara off.

With a silent reprimand to his lower body, he gathers the unconscious man into his arms and gently arranges the Uchiha clan head into the futon, his hands lingering on the covers just a tad longer than necessary. His eyes flicker to Madara's parted lips, but he shakes those not-so-innocent thoughts away. Madara, Tobirama suspects, had once been a victim to nonconsensual sexual activities ( _white, scorching anger flushed through his veins at the mere thought of his oldest friend, the man he loves, be forced against his will_ ). So It felt twice as wrong to take advantage of the man's unconscious state.

He brushes back Madara's bangs to press a chaste kiss on the intriguing diamond seal on his forehead instead, an affectionate gesture rather than one full of desire.

He leaves the room shortly after to return to the dining area, intending to finish his late-night dinner. At the feel of Ryouta's presence, however, Tobirama pauses for a moment to nod at the younger shinobi - waiting for Ryouta to give an indication of discomfort or otherwise - before he settles next to the short Uchiha who has Kazuha in his arms.

They didn't talk. Both of them were quiet as they nibbled on their respective food. It didn't take long for the baby to make a fuss, however.

Tobirama spectates from the corner of his eyes as Ryouta rocks the babe while checking her nappy. He almost starts when Ryouta releases an amused huff, too engrossed in mapping Kazuha's facial structure and comparing them to Madara's to notice he had stopped paying attention to his body language.

He feels embarrassed at his lapse of control, but he made sure to show nothing but a stony wall for a face. Itama always teased him for being a softie towards children, he didn't need another one.

"Can I trust you to keep her calm while I prepare her bottle?" Ryouta asked, tone polite and smile gentle. Tobirama wasn't fooled; the teen's angelic appearance belied a ruthless ego. There was no mistaking the threat in those onyx eyes.

Tobirama agreed and was handed the precious bundle. He marvels at the tiny person in his arms as he gently rocks her, an unintentional smile playing across his lips when his index finger was wrapped in a pudgy fist.

"Hello, Kazuha-chan," he whispered, making sure that his voice would not carry to Ryouta. The babe's pair of pinkish eyes focus on him as she gurgles, perhaps a greeting. "You look just like your father when he was younger. It's adorable. I wonder if your hair will be like your mother's once you've grown a little more? I hope not. I much prefer Madara's, although mind, do not take it the wrong way. I'll love Kazuha-chan unconditionally either way."

The babe only blinks her innocent pinkish eyes. Tobirama's heart melted under the onslaught. Idly, he wonders if Ryouta would allow him to feed her?

Once the Uchiha came back, They exchanged small talk through his meal.

And yes, Ryouta did allow him to feed her in the end.

* * *

Madara groggily clutches at the blanket around his shoulders, shivering at the cold breeze that had caressed his cheeks. Feeling a source of heat near him and smelling the familiar, safe scent of ink and choji oil, he curls into the body next to him. Their fingers start to comb through his hair, scratching at his scalp pleasingly. It was soothing enough for him to fall back into the cold grip of memories clawing at his ankles.

The calming, circular motion of a large, calloused hand on his back never ceased.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a muddled headed blur. Other than vomiting from time to time, Madara couldn't remember much of his time when he was conscious. All he knows from the brief bouts of clarity was that Itama was his primary caretaker.

The Senju stayed in the furthest guest room and was under 24-hour guard rotation overseer by Hikaku. Usually, Madara would have been too paranoid to sleep when Zetsu was running free in his backyard via Kawarama. He was distinctly aware of his vulnerability. However, that option had been taken from him no thanks to the sudden onset of sickness.

Paranoia made him shuffle out of his futon to physically examine both his body and mind to ensure no tampering had been done whilst he had been unconscious. Madara trusts Itama with his life, but his disciple was currently unprotected and that left him susceptible to Zetsu's influence. Who knows if Zetsu had made any other Senju his puppet without Madara's knowledge?

After performing many tests, the conclusion was that he was fine. There hadn't been any alternations done to him ( _or if there had been, he didn't notice and he was going to become a puppet again and- no,_ _ **stop**_ _. He should remain cautious, not anxious_ ). He would check on his brothers when he sees them, of course, but first, he needs to find his disciple and give Itama's mind some much-needed protection against otherworldly influences.

Stretching, he couldn't help but moan in pleasure. He felt properly rejuvenated for once. At least one good thing came out from this entire mess. Thinking back, this was exactly what his body needed. The first real sleep after pushing it past its limits. Now all that was left to feel secure again was to rebuild his disgustingly faded forehead seal.

Before he could make himself feel human again via a bath, the twins entered his room. His baby brothers had their eyes wide open.

"Yakumi? Takumi? Are you- _oomph_!"

Yakumi jumped into his personal space and embraced him with his short arms, his twin following shortly after. Madara didn't push them away, rather, it was the opposite. He wraps his arms around his youngest brothers and rocks them in a comforting manner.

Well, he could take a bath later. The twins were his priority.

* * *

"Itama-sensei? Aniue is awake."

Itama turns to look at the youngest of shishou's siblings. The boy was fidgeting by the doorway, tiny hands playing with the hems of his kimono shirt. Itama has to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from gushing all over the adorable sight.

"Yakumi-kun, was it?" He asked.

"It's Takumi. B-but it's ok, Itama-sensei!" At Itama's sheepish expression, the boy quickly assured while flailing at the same time, much like shishou whenever he was flustered. "You don't have to feel bad. We're identical twins so a lot of people confuse us! I'm used to it."

"Even if you are, it's still rude of me to mistake you for your brother. Twins you may be, but you're both different people," Itama rose from his seat and placed a hand on the boy's fluffy head. "You said something about Madara-sama waking up?"

"H-hai," Takumi nodded. His cheeks were warm as he fiddles with his fingers. In his mind, Itama-sensei was kind and gentle, just like Ryouta-nii, so he likes this particular Senju. He wasn't like the Senju monsters in the stories other adults would tell him whenever he left the manor to play.

"Let's go check on your brother." Itama gently takes Takumi's hand into his and they both made their way to the Uchiha clan head's bedroom.

On the way, Takumi started to unconsciously swing their linked hands together. It was childish, yet so very precious. Itama couldn't remember the last time he held hands with his brothers.

Hashirama-nii was a hugger, preferring to pounce on anyone and squeeze their organs into misshapen pancakes. They've never actually held hands when they walked together, or at least, he can't remember ever doing that with his eldest brother. Kawarama-nii dislikes prolonged physical contact too much to hold hands with anybody. The only times he would initiate contact was whenever he wanted to act cute ( _which, ew_ ). Tobi-nii would often hold hands or carry him around when he was younger, but after he had grown, Tobi-nii's show of affection changed to shoulder pats, since Itama was now bigger and taller than all of his siblings.

Sometimes, he wishes that he wasn't the youngest. He wanted someone to spoil. Maybe shishou would let Itama spoil his baby? Fingers crossed!

Entering the bedroom, he releases Takumi's hand and took the seat to the right of shishou's futon. The little one didn't enter, only bowing before taking his exit.

Itama turned his attention to the main person. Shishou was awake, looking far too pale and exhausted, but coherent. It was a relief to see that he had snapped out of his delirious state, which had lasted a week too long. His eye bags were darker than ever and his hair limp, making him look smaller than usual. Itama hated how fragile his strong shishou appeared.

Fortunately, Itama had been allowed to become the Uchiha clan head's primary healer. It was worth delaying his return just to get shishou healthy again.

Tobi-nii, along with the rest of their clanmates, had already left five days ago. Tobi-nii, as the heir of their clan, was needed back home due to the Uzumaki clan's presence in the Senju compound ahead of schedule. The only reason Itama, being a member of the main family, was allowed to remain behind was because Tobi-nii approved it, stubbornly refusing to listen to the Elders when they spoke their disagreement. So foolish. Shishou was someone they both cherish. Of course, Tobi-nii would want him here.

As for the Uchiha clan, Ryouta's words pretty much convinced them that Itama, being the greatest healer out there, could only bring benefits with his stay.

Itama had blushed bright red at the praise but didn't deny it because technically, he was _the_ best, as shishou hadn't been in the condition to fight him for the title then. Now that shishou was in the condition to mould chakra, Itama would happily deny being the best in his field. That title belonged rightfully to his honorable shishou.

"How're you feeling?" Itama queried.

Without waiting for a response, he automatically places a glowing green hand on his shishou's chest, silently collecting data and vital obs. Everything seems to be within normal parameters, thankfully. He removes his appendage and turns his attention to the Uchiha when he sees shishou make a move to speak.

Shishou breathes out a sigh. "Tired. I apologize for the trouble I've caused you, Tama-bo. What's the diagnosis and how long have I been down for?"

"It is no trouble at all, shishou," he responded with a soft smile. They were the only ones in the room, so Itama decided to call him master out loud. "You've had a sudden onset of hyperpyrexia. You've been out for a week, with intermittent vomiting and delirium. How does your body feel now? Any lingering aches? Do you have any trouble breathing? The risk for aspiration pneumonia had been high with the bouts of vomiting. Any headaches? Your temperature is above where I'm comfortable with, still in the range of normal, of course, but just in case..."

Shishou, who had remained quiet through his questioning with his eyes closed in thought, opened those dark, intimidating pair of black orbs abruptly enough to cut him off. They seemed to pierce his very soul. Itama held back a shiver and quickly sealed his lips. Okay, too many questions at one go. Understood.

"No, nothing unusual. Just tired. Have you taken a look at my daughter?"

"Yes. She's beautiful!" Itama had been in awe when he first saw her.

He grins goofily at the remembrance of such a gorgeous baby, her cherubic features identical to shishou's but with Tobi-nii's coloring. It was as if fate wanted them to be together. Itama very much approves.

"Kazuha-chan is as healthy as can be. A little underweight, but Ryouta-san is working on that. Her lungs have been a concern, I've heard. However, I've done a full body assessment and have found nothing worrying. I've taken her albinism into consideration and have procured a few jars of sunscreen for her. They're Tobi-nii's recipe when he had been younger and hadn't had full control over his chakra. I'm sure that'll be useful to her. Of course, I've already written the recipe down and given it to Ryouta-san."

"Thank you." Shishou had his lips tilted upwards into a tiny little smile, eyes soft and full of love at just the mention of his daughter. "To have a second person confirm her health is assuring, especially when it's you. Pass my gratitude to Tobirama when you return, would you? His recipe would make Kazuha's life easier."

"It's my pleasure! I'm sure Tobi-nii will be delighted to hear that."

"Ah, speaking of Tobirama, where are your brothers?"

"They've already left. Tobi-nii told me to tell you that everything is going as planned, and you need not worry about the peace meetings as he has it handled. He wants you to focus on recovery and leave everything to him until you're healthy again."

"He worries too much. I'll be up and moving soon." Itama purses his lips in disapproval, but shishou ignored him. Stupid shishou, always uncooperative when it came to his health. "What about Kawarama?"

Itama blinked, confused. "What about him?"

"The last I saw him, he stormed out of the tent in a fit of rage."

"Oh. Shishou doesn't need to worry about him," Itama waves a hand as if swatting an annoying housefly away. "Kawarama-nii has a prissy fit all the time. I'd say he was being childish and leave it at that. He has trouble admitting his faults and was probably annoyed at something Tobi-nii said."

"... Do I need to be concerned about the risk of sabotage?"

"Nah. Kawarama-nii may be a childish wanker, but he's loyal to a fault. He'll never betray us or do anything to bring our clan down."

"Hn. So he has always been short-tempered?"

"Ye-" Itama paused, eyebrows furrowed as he rethinks his answer. Simultaneously, he assists shishou change out of his damp yukata, picking up a dry cloth to help wipe the sweat from his body. "No. Kawarama specializes in reconnaissance. He usually has good control over his emotions."

"I'm hearing a 'but' in there," Shishou raises an eyebrow.

Itama tentatively hummed his agreement while helping him into a clean yukata. He shuffles behind his teacher, a comb in hand.

"He has been throwing tantrums more often as of late. Although he tends to be loud and childish at home, he knows the danger of uncontrollable bouts of anger. Especially during missions. It's... concerning enough that Tobi-nii had pulled him out of our active duty roster and put him on heir-guarding duty to keep a better eye on him. I want to blame it on puberty, but sometimes, it feels as if I don't know him as well as I thought I do."

Black mane combed to the best of his abilities, Itama then hands a pair of leather gloves to the Uchiha before standing. After delicately smoothing his yukata, he stretches a hand out to assist shishou to his feet.

"Anyway. It's probably just Kawarama-nii being Kawarama-nii and Tobi-nii and I are just being paranoid. We're all still in the midst of growing up. Who knows how our personalities will evolve in due time?"

Whereas Shishou gave a distracted nod, Itama supported his shishou while they both walked to the dining area. Takumi would have already informed Ryouta of shishou's state so they'll probably have food on the table by now.

Just before they entered the dining area, shishou pulled him to a stop. He made a noise of inquiry.

"If I remember correctly, you said something about Hashirama getting married soon, didn't you?"

"Uh, yes? Everyone has been preparing for his wedding for some time now. It's actually in a couple of days. Mito - Hashirama-nii's soon-to-be wife - is already there with her family and most of her clan. Too early, if you ask me. That's why Tobi-nii has to leave on such short notice."

"Say... isn't it about time I showed my face to your family?"

Shishou's sudden question almost gave him an arrest. His heart was thumping violently in his chest and he could only blink in confusion, a stupid, "Huh?", leaving his lips. Suddenly, he was getting a bad feeling about this. Let's put a stop to whatever schemes were inside shishou's head.

"B-but you've already met them?" He tries as politely as he could manage, his tone borderline pleading.

"Tama-bo, you couldn't possibly think to exclude _me_ , your honorable _shishou_ , from attending your brother's wedding, could you? It has been years since I've taken you as my apprentice, yet officially, your family and your iryo instructor have met not once. That simply won't do! This is a prime time opportunity to formally introduce us, my dear deshi. What a happy occasion! We must simply celebrate! Ryouta will prepare the most glorious cake for the party."

"W-wait... shishou..."

"It's decided," the great Uchiha Madara curved his lips into a diabolical grin, baring his teeth and looking deviously full of schemes. _Devil_ , Itama inwardly cries. "I expect an invitation on my desk come morning. You understand, right, my cute little student?"

Itama could only nod meekly at the threats hidden between those lines, inwardly crying rivers of blood. One could never say no when shishou was like this unless they have a death wish. And Itama, despite being a trembling M, wasn't someone who seeks death. No siree.

As if that diabolical grin was not enough to torment him on sleepless nights, it stretched wider. Fearing for the worst, Itama purposefully cleared his throat loud enough for the people in the dining area to hear. Lady Luck must have been shining her light upon him, for Ryouta appeared abruptly, concerned face hovering mere inches away from shishou's.

Of course shishou's first instinct would be to slap the face away. _Of course._

" _Anija_!" Ryouta squawks while holding the growing bump on his forehead. "How dare you _slap_ someone who has been taking care of your workload for the whole week?! Do you know how _insanity_ - _inducing_ it was to be your representative at the peace conference?! I _cannot_ believe this. This is the reward I get for all my hard work - a slap. _Unbelievable_."

Shishou, with embarrassment coloring his cheeks red, awkwardly brushes his fringe to cover more of his face, "My apologies. I mistook you for Izuna."

However, rather than be placated, Ryouta looks _more_ offended.

"Nii-san. _Really_? I look like _nii-san_?" Ryouta stresses the word 'nii-san' like it was a vile expression, a tick forming above his left eyebrow.

Just as shishou was about to apologize _again_ like the weak-willed pushover he was whenever it came down to any of his little brothers, Ryouta bulldozed over him. Itama sighs in relief at the angry berating that took the attention off of him, with shishou meekly folding like wet toilet paper.

 _Safe_.

No more nightmare-inducing grins, thank log.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! It's prep for the next one, which is super duper funny. Well, to me, anyway. Madara's 'diabolic' plans tend to make Tobirama want to facepalm, at any rate (ノдヽ).


	33. Chapter 33

For the _nth_ time, Senju Yoshimaru couldn't withhold yawning.

Gate duty was the worst. Especially when three-quarters of his clan were already getting drunk at Hashirama-sama's wedding. Tilting his chin up, he glares peevishly at the sun, wishing that it would move faster. He so badly wants his shift to end so that he could enjoy whatever was left of the feast ( _if there were any. The majority of the clan have bottomless pits for stomachs_ ).

 _Argh_ , he seriously wants to see the beautiful, blushing bride ( _from rumors, Uzumaki Mito has a face that even a goddess would envy_ ) while getting dead drunk with his comrades... _Well_ , Yoshimaru silently comforts himself, at least he wasn't unlucky enough to get the evening shift. Tobirama-sama had prohibited them from even taking a sip of saké. To not be able to drink on such a happy occasion was a travesty! Poor cousin Eiichiro, he smirks ( _misery sure did love company_ ).

Checking the position of the sun, Yoshimaru deduced that the ceremony would soon begin. He crosses his fingers. Hopefully, the ceremony would drag and delay. He seriously wants to see the bride! And eat free food. And get drunk. Yoshimaru petulantly kicks the dirt beneath his feet.

So boring! So boring so boring so boring soboringsoborin _gsoborin-_

His inner complaints were abruptly cut off by a yawn so loud he started to tear up. That was how boring it was to be on gate duty. The morning couldn't pass any slower.

Ascertain that he would fall asleep on his feet if this continues, Yoshimaru decides to climb the watchtower for the heck of it. Since the action was still within his scope of practice, he wouldn't get in trouble for stretching his legs a bit. Apart from the usual gate duties, he was also the doorman, responsible for checking invitations. Hence why he had to imitate a statue by the gates for most parts.

Yoshimaru slaps his cheeks mid-yawn. Stop, damn it. If Tobirama-sama were to see him yawning away, the Senju heir would give him _The_ stink eye, with a capital T. And Tobirama-sama's stink eye was really, _really_ scary. Yoshimaru shudders by just remembering it ( _and no, he wasn't being childish! He was already sixteen!_ _Too old to act as such!_ ).

With a groan, he pulls out a spyglass. Better to do something productive than to fiddle his thumbs.

N, no abnormalities detected.

NNW, no abnormalities detected.

NW, no abnormalities detected.

WNW, no abnormalities detected.

W, no abnormalities detected.

WSW-

 _Wait a second_.

He re-positions the spyglass back to the direction of West.

Bemused, he removes the spyglass to rub his eyes. He must've seen wrong. Must be the boredom. Yes, definitely. After agreeing with himself, he uses the spyglass and points it to where he had seen the anomaly.

... Alright. He didn't see it wrongly.

That was undoubtedly an _oiran_ [1] he sees. No other women would wear their hair in an elaborative datehyougo style and dress in so many layers that even looking at her could make others feel sweaty. But why would an oiran be sauntering towards their compound? Yoshimaru could understand if the clan had hired a geisha or two to provide entertainment for the guests during the feast, but an oiran - _a woman of pleasure_ \- has no place at a wedding.

Yoshimaru's eyes couldn't help but stray. The oiran's kimono, probably made of the purest silk, was in bold red with delicate patterns in vivid gold. The layers upon layers of kimono did not swallow her frame and figure, however. It only made her exude a certain sex appeal that only mature women could. Yoshimaru could only swallow drily at the bold show of shoulders and collarbone - and if his spyglass wasn't playing tricks on him, he could make out a pattern of some kind inked across the back of her neck. It was _stimulating_ , that was for sure. Even in a pair of sanmaiba geta, she was graceful as she makes her way over.

The oiran, unlike the ones the had seen in the red-light district at the Capital during an Oiran Dōchū[2], wore only light makeup and did not smear white base on her skin. Her eyes, which were already beautifully shaped, were accented black to make them appear coquettish, her lashes curled in a way that made her onyx orbs pop, and lids highlighted with red eyeshadow that contrasted seductively against her pale skin. There were slight bags underneath her eyes that couldn't be fully concealed by makeup, but that added to her charm rather than diminish it.

On the center of her forehead, between those fawn eyebrows[3], was a light purple rhombus no bigger than the nail of his pinky. Her lips, pouty and delectable, were painted the same shade as her eyelids. Her cheeks were slightly cherubic, though it was more of an indication of youth rather than weight, and a jawline that could _cut_. All in all, her features were exquisite and she was the most gorgeous woman Yoshimaru has ever laid eyes upon, no joke.

Seeing that she would reach the gates in a couple of minutes, Yoshimaru fumbles to put away his spyglass and quickly jumps back to the ground. He nervously wipes the sweat on his neck, straightens his back, and puffs out his chest to make himself look manlier.

Even if this oiran has the wrong address, he wanted to make a good impression. Who wouldn't want to in the face of such a pretty person? Yoshimaru, as a hormonal teenager, didn't even suspect anything else, too busy drooling and thinking with _something_ that was _not_ his brain.

He was _kinda_ , sort of, spellbound. She was _that_ captivating.

"Good morning," the oiran greeted. Her voice was deeper than he had been expecting, but it still made a pleasant tingle run down his spine. "I've come to attend the wedding of Senju Hashirama-sama and Uzumaki Mito-sama."

Yoshimaru dazedly wonders why her accent seemed familiar _yet not_. It didn't take him long to discern where he had heard it from, however. If he wasn't wrong, the sociolect of prostitutes was _kuruwa kotoba,_ something hailed from the red-light district at the Capitol, used by yūjo[4] to hide their origins.

It was only when the oiran politely cleared her throat did he remember that _staring_ was not considered _polite_. Embarrassed, he quickly raises a hand, palm up. "Right. Yeah. Can I see your invitation? Uh, please," he added the last bit in a stumble, ears red at his poor manners.

He was a frontline shinobi, damn it. He has never needed to be polite nor diplomatic before since all he was required to do was cut down his enemies. Even his table manners were atrocious. Hence why he was usually the target of Tobirama-sama's stink eye whenever they were at the communal canteen at the same time ( _so what if he eats with his mouth open and talk at the same time? What a cabbage, sheesh_!).

"Of course," the oiran smiles, her red painted lips curved in a coy manner. It made his mouth run dry and he had to shift his sight to her shoulder... which was worse so he quickly brought his line of sight to her forehead. Damn, he didn't know where to look to stay polite. No doubt, Yoshimaru would lose himself in her eyes, her lips _did things_ to his gut, and her shoulders and collarbone were _bare_.

While he was internally writhing at the obscene images playing in his mind, the oiran unhesitatingly pulls out a rolled parchment from the wide sleeves of her kimono and places it delicately atop his outstretched palm. Returning her smile, albeit more twitchy due to his nerves, he swiftly unrolls the parchment and did a quick scan with his eyes. Due to the protocols Tobirama-sama instilled, he made sure to check for tampering via seals, genjutsu, and other methods his clan heir deemed 'adequate' enough ( _the paranoid bugger_ ).

Everything looks real. Just that... "It says here to send for Itama-sama to escort you in?" Yoshimaru asked, perplexed.

"Indeed. I apologize for the inconvenience caused, shinobi-san. Tama-bo has specifically requested that I wait for him by the gates. Would you be so kind as to fetch him for me?"

Tama- ** _bo_** [5]?!

Okay, Yoshimaru wouldn't have choked on his spit if it had been _Itama_ -bo, at least. But. She called him Tama-bo. Not even Itama, but _Tama._ What was their relationship?! W-wait. Was Itama-sama her _client_?! That lucky basta-

" _Uhh_. Yeah. I mean, no. I can't leave my post but I can get my summon to get... Itama-sama," Yoshimaru had to control his expression when he said Itama-sama's name out loud. "What's your name?"

"Oh my, how impolite of me," the oiran snapped a fan open and positioned it so that the lower half of her face was, unfortunately, covered. "I am called Daraku. Deai Daraku. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

... _Depravity_ [6]? _Debauchery_? What? Who would name their child that?! And what kind of family name is _Deai_ [7]?! If he were to combine the meaning behind her name together, her introduction was akin to cursing him to encounter depravity. Despite her regal appearance, Yoshimaru kind of wants to take a step back now that he knows her full name.

Yoshimaru didn't know if he should laugh or cry at the revelation, his mind immediately cleared of any previous naughty thoughts. In the end, he decided that neither option was appealing and played ignorance. "... Yeah. Nice to meet you too... Deai-san. Wait here. I'll summon someone."

At her nod, he sighs in relief and moves away to perform a summoning jutsu. A poof of smoke and a few murmured orders later had a lemur run off with its tail wrapped around a piece of parchment. Yoshimaru didn't return to her side. He acted as if he was busy by pulling out a random scroll ( _guard rotation schedule for the day_ ) and reading it.

Fortunately, the oiran didn't speak. The golden fan that had branches of sakura blossoms painted on it - _which was looking suspiciously more and more like a tessen in his eyes_ \- was still covering the bottom half of her face as she looks around in a completely shinobi-esque manner.

It made Yoshimaru anxious. Suddenly, he wonders if he had been too quick to judge her by her appearance. What if she was an assassin aiming for Itama-sama's head? Itama-sama was their clan's treasured medic-nin. There had been a lot of attempts at his life but none have succeeded due to the bodyguards usually situated around the main infirmary.

Just as his shoulders began to ache at how tensed they've become, Itama-sama appeared.

Upon seeing the woman, the medic-nin blanches, an expression one would wear when constipated appearing on his face. Yoshimaru discreetly placed a hand on the hilt of his katana, ready to draw at a moment's notice. It would be a pity to kill such a beautiful lady. But a job was a job. He was duty-bound to protect the members of the main house.

Yoshimaru's lips part, suspicion on the tip of his tongue. However, Itama-sama cut through his budding words with a squeaky, high pitched yelp. "Shi- _Shishou_?!"

 _Wait_ , _what_?

While Yoshimaru was gaping in disbelief, Itama-sama was pointing at the oiran- no, the lady who was his teacher( _?!_ ) in a way that would make Tobirama-sama give his little brother the stink eye.

"Retract your finger, Tama-bo. Lest you wish I cut it off?" Oh, he'd rather receive Tobirama-sama's stink eye than be reprimanded by her. She seems to be the brutal, violent sort whenever angered.

Itama-sama instantly did as instructed, looking twice as sweaty as Yoshimaru feels. He still doesn't understand what was going on. Was this woman Itama-sama's mysterious teacher, the one who taught him those revolutionary iryōjutsus?! _How_?! She was clearly an oiran!

"Uhm, shishou. You're early."

"Hn. Let's go, Tama-bo. I've been _dying_ to meet your brothers." He didn't know it was possible for Itama-sama to turn another shade pallor. _It was_. Before Yoshimaru could react to anything else, the woman ( _he truly did not want to call her by either name or surname_ ) turned to him. "I thank you for your assistance, shinobi-san. I, along with my disciple, shall take our leave now. Good day."

He could only murmur an incoherent response as he watches them leave.

Itama-sama had offered an arm to his master and was leading her to the shrine, where Hashirama-sama's wedding ceremony was soon to take place. The height difference between master and disciple required Itama-sama to lean down when they conversed. Funny enough, this action didn't help Yoshimaru in unseeing Itama-sama as a client to an oiran despite knowing the two's relationship.

Their silhouette soon disappeared at the next corner.

... At least she didn't _mosey_ like an oiran during a dōchū...?

Eh, let's just go back to gate duty. He won't be yawning any more after this beguiling encounter, that was for sure.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Damn it, Yoshimaru. The author yawned whenever they typed the word 'yawn'. No joke ι(´Д｀)ﾉ. And yes, that last line was a pun, if any of you noticed. I know I'm lame.

Anyway. How was it? Did you enjoy the chapter? ( 〃´艸｀) The great Uchiha Madara has decided to crossdress as an oiran~ What a treat! Did anyone guess that he would do this when he planned to attend the wedding? Please, tell me your thoughts (~￣³￣)~!

 **[1]** Oiran = The highest order of Japanese prostitute (or in polite terms; the highest-ranking courtesan). Extravagantly dressed and has an elaborate hairstyle with a shitload of ornaments. They choose their customers and not vice versa since their social standing is higher than their clients (even officials!) but only in the red-light district.

 **[2]** Oiran Dōchū = A procession of Japanese courtesans. It's a 'march' that the oiran and their servants do through town. Google " _hachimonji style_ " to see how oiran would walk during the march. It's pretty elegant hey.

 **[3]** Fawn eyebrows = think Izumo Kamiki's eyebrows.

 **[4]** Yūjo = women of pleasure AKA courtesans.

 **[5]** Bō = just a reminder that this suffix expresses endearment. Similar to _-chan_ , it is used for babies or young children, but is exclusively used for boys instead of girls.

 **[6]** Daraku (堕落) = It could mean depravity, corruption, degradation, perdition, or beguilement. Something that you _shouldn't_ name your child. Madara's just being a troll, don't follow his example! He first thought to give himself an easy alias 'Dara' but thought it would be funnier to have a woman who is named after 'immorality' dressed like a prostitute be Itama's teacher. This is why Tobirama facepalms whenever Madara _has ideas_.

 **[7]** Deai ( **出合** ) = It could mean encounter or rendezvous. Again, Madara is being a smartarse. Remember how Itama and Madara met? Yeah. A reference to that.

Deai Daraku = encounter depravity. 'Her' name is like a bad omen, man. So whilst you can, flee for your lives!


End file.
